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by jontargaryens
Summary: "If I didn't know you any better, captain, I'd say you were jealous." Then something flashed across her eyes, which briefly moved down to his lips, realizing how easy it would be to break the space between them. In another life, he would've grabbed her by the sides of her face and pressed his lips against hers. In this life, however, he held back. "Good night, princess." CS AU.
1. A Fairy's Promise

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time, or any of its lovely characters!**

* * *

 **Part I: a princess and a pirate.**

* * *

 _maybe we could be the start of something,_

 _be together at the start of time._

* * *

 **Chapter One: A Fairy's Promise.**

"So… What do you wish to get for your birthday, sweetheart?" Snow's voice resounded against the large room's walls, making Emma's head shot up from the book she had been reading.

"What?" she mumbled distractedly, eyes finding her mother, who sat on the opposite side of the rounded table, scribbling down a letter.

" _I said,_ " Snow emphasized on the words, eyes still not raising from her task as she repeated herself, "What do you wish for your birthday, Emma?"

"Oh." Emma had been expecting the question to pop in any moment now; even though her birthday would not be until a couple of weeks from now, she'd always find her parents planning gifts and celebrations ahead of time.

So, every year they'd ask for her heart's desire, happy to oblige and please their only heir.

She could remember asking for storybooks at the age of six. A pony at the age of nine. A sword – it provoked a shared, surprised glance between her parents, to then make Charming burst into chuckles, claiming with pride: _I told you she'd be a fighter!_ – at the age of twelve.

And then she was about to turn fifteen, and as her mother braided her blond hair, she'd asked: _What do you want your father and I to get you this year?_

And that year, Emma hesitated. She thought back to all the fine dresses she had, the precious jewels that adorned her neck and ears and fingers. She could turn to every corner of her room to see it filled with little treasures she'd gathered over the years, from her parents and friends and even from royalties of neighboring lands, wanting to pay homage to the princess.

She thought of her family, loving and wonderful, and all their friends that were just as kind.

And she wondered, what could possibly be missing in her life?

So, after a few moments of thinking, she had turned to her mother with a smile, and spoken, " _I already have all I could wish for, mom._ "

So now, four years later, she repeated the words, causing Snow to finally raise her head from her task, kind smile curving on her lips, "You say that every year."

"And you still ask," Emma replied as she let out a soft chuckle.

"How can I not ask?" Snow continued, eyes brightened by the usual love and kindness that filled her gaze. "The sole heir to the kingdom will be turning nineteen. It's not an event that can go by unnoticed."

The words made Emma roll her eyes with amusement. As of that moment, invitations were being sent all throughout the kingdoms, decorations were being planned and new dresses for the queen and princess being sawn for her birthday. She wasn't sure if the word _unnoticed_ could ever be applied to any of her birthdays.

"I'm sure it won't go by unnoticed. That's what the ball is for," Emma said, offering her mother a sweet smile. "Don't worry, mom. I'm as happy as I can be."

She believed herself to be happy, yes.

But there were times –

Like later that afternoon, as she halted from her daily ride right at the end of the bridge that joined both her home and the forest. She can't help but sigh at the sight of green; so many large trees she could surely spend a lifetime counting them and yet she would not come close to finishing the task.

Or in the mornings, as she opens the doors to her balcony to get that extra sunshine into her bedroom – and she can't help but contemplate the sky and sea right outside her room.

Two large blues greeting each other, and she couldn't help but feel a lot smaller.

Like she was just a little dot among the great and wide unknown.

And deep down, her entire being ached to be more than that.

* * *

Usually, her days go by the same way.

She spends an awful long time reading; while it was her responsibility, study and gather information to one day be a ruler as wise as both her parents are, she had long ago realized that it was more a pleasure than a duty to her.

It serves as an escape.

She loves her family and her life, but she finds that the tall walls of the castle can be quite intimidating. Reading takes her away from them, to far-off lands she's never had the pleasure of knowing.

While geography books have already been covered in dust in the castle's library, history turns out being her favorite subject to read. She devours all the stories of the heroes and the adventures that led her kingdom to be what it is now. A grin fills her face at the most recent books, which already include Snow and David's story.

She's read the story over and over again; however, she finds she enjoys it better hearing all the details from her parents' mouths.

A couple of days a week, Emma and David spend hours at the courtyard, charging and swinging their swords at each other until the sun began to set. She was a princess, yes, but her father had been determined to teach her how to defend herself since she'd gotten old enough.

A lot of times Snow would sit by the grass and watch, proud smirk on her face whenever her daughter bested the king.

"What are you looking all smug for, Snow?" had once said David between deep breaths, sweat running down his forehead. Emma had crashed to the ground as soon as the fight was over; grass tickling her skin as she caught her breath, "Perhaps you'd like to challenge me now."

Snow just smiled amusedly, "Careful what you wish for, my love."

So, a couple of moments later, when father and daughter were well rested and back to practicing, they failed to notice Snow's absence – that is until David heard a familiar swoosh of air that had his reflexes kicking in and making him duck; an arrow flying a couple of inches above where his head used to be.

"So, how about that challenge?"

Snow looked smug, trying to keep at bay an amused smile, bow firmly held on her left hand. While Emma was in many things like her mother, this was a skill she did not inherit. It took Snow many tries to make Emma even get close to hitting a target before they'd both decided it was best for Emma to just focus on sword-fighting.

Snow, on the other hand, could hit any target, even with her eyes closed.

David stared at his wife dumbfounded, and a silence surrounded them until finally Emma let out a snort, unable to contain the laughter; it sent Snow down that same path, and while David tried his best to keep a straight face, it didn't take him long enough to crack up as well.

"You got me there, darling," he said between laughs, and Emma didn't miss the way his eyes lit up and sparkled as he locked eyes with his wife.

Like she's the only woman in the world for him.

Like she's _his world_.

And it had made the thought pop on Emma's head, that she truly can't wait for someone to look at her that way.

The days when her father didn't have time for another practice and reading was just not enough entertainment, Emma would try to go visit her friends.

Truth was, her childhood had been lonely most times. She didn't have any siblings to play with, and she'd never really known kids her age. Pinocchio had often been around, still growing up they were always on different mindsets – back when she was six and all she wanted to do was run around and play, he was already hitting puberty, and was clearly not interested in the games the young princess begged him for.

When she was thirteen she'd finally made a friend close to her age. A princess just like herself, Belle was only a couple of years older than Emma; still, they'd gotten along well. Leaving behind the shyness of their first meetings, they had found they both had a lot in common: both sole heirs to their kingdoms, with a shared passion for books and stories, and an urgent need of being more than just pretty princesses.

Emma was sixteen the last time she saw her, however. Every now and then she thinks about it, melancholy sweeping through her heart as she remembers the friendship. She wonders if Belle were ever to return… would things go back to being just like when they were young, foolish teenagers?

She doubts it.

So, a lot of times Emma just ends up hanging out with her parents' friends – though, honestly, they were all like family. She'd invite Jiminy into her room, tell him her worries and allow him to whisper bits of advice into her ears. Granny taught her how to sew and cook some of her special dishes, all while narrating tales of a younger version of herself, wild and daring and always ready for a fight.

However, Emma believed Red to be the most fun of them all. She considered her as an aunt, or perhaps even an older sister. She'd heard most of the secrets Emma kept from the world and answered the questions Emma had been too afraid to ask her parents.

She's lived her days for the past eighteen years the same way.

And usually, by the time night arrives and Emma sets the delicate crown aside on her hairdresser, she feels a whole lot lighter. She couldn't quite put her finger on why, but the feeling was certainly there.

It had her wondering, as she laid on her bed, what could possibly be missing in her life?

* * *

A triumphant grin appeared on his features as he finally sets foot on land.

He was so close now, he could already see it: his sweet revenge, slowly drawn out as he made sure to capture and retain forever in his brain every second of it.

His heart sped up at the thought of it, of watching his yellow eyes become blank, void of life.

Just like Milah's had.

After hundreds of years of planning out his revenge, he was at last one step closer to it, finally free from that cursed island. He was ready to set his plan in motion, and for once, he knew just where to start looking.

 _You will get your happy ending._

It's so very unlike himself to be holding on still to the words of a bloody fairy. Magic, he'd always believed, never leads you anywhere; however, those magical beings were supposed to be all about truth and niceness and sparkliness, and he doubted they could even be capable of a thing such as deception.

So, he opted for taking comfort from those words, repeating them like a mantra as the image of Rumplestiltskin's heart turned to ashes by his own hand became clearer than ever.

The conversation had happened years ago. He wasn't sure how long exactly, but it could've easily been twenty or thirty years. When you've lived as long as he did, in a place like Neverland, time becomes like a far-off concept.

It's all the same – days and months and years.

After all, every second he's spent waiting to kill the Dark One feels like an eternity to him.

It's all thanks to Tinkerbell. She holds a knife to his neck from the very moment they met, voice low and dangerous as she threatened to end his life.

"That's not the fairy way," he had replied just as dangerously, and even though she was still firmly pressing the knife against his skin, he knew she wouldn't harm him. He was able to see right through her; she's a fairy, and he doubts if murder is a concept known to those kind, selfless beings. He appeared to be right as, after a couple of seconds, the blonde girl hesitated. "Shouldn't you help me get my happy ending?"

Tinkerbell pulled back just the slightest, and he saw conflict in her eyes. "I _was_ a fairy, but my wings were taken away. I can't help you."

He scowled; in that very moment, it seemed like everything pointed at him being doomed to eternally remain stuck in that bloody island, away from his revenge.

Tinkerbell hesitated for a moment, to then take the knife away from his throat, sighing. "I can lead you to someone who can, though."

And so she did. She led him through the dense forest for quite a while, and he followed closely behind her, observing her as she seemed to be always looking at the ground, like trying to find something hidden at their own feet.

"Here!" she exclaimed in a sudden halt of her walking, kneeling to the ground quickly to brush her hands against the dirt in front of her.

Killian couldn't help but just stand back and stare, squinting his eyes to try to see whatever she was suddenly so entertained with, to then have disbelief plastered all over his features, as he came to a realization: "A fairy ring?"

She looked up at him, and explained: "There are more ways to contact a fairy than just wishing upon a star."

Tinkerbell was quick to place her attention back on the ground, and Killian's eyebrows raised as he watched her mouth move, mumbling words he couldn't really catch.

And then, a flash of bright blue light blinded him for a second, and out of instinct, he pulled up his good hand to protect his eyes from the light. After a couple of blinks, he found the bright light to have been replaced now by a tiny, sparkly woman; dressed in all blue and batting her wings as she floated right in front of their faces.

He swore he'd never been in a situation as ridiculous as this one, but he reminded himself that desperate times require desperate measures.

"Green," the fairy greeted Tinkerbell, as the taller woman stood from the ground.

"Blue." Tinkerbell nodded back at her, and Killian didn't miss the way she had suddenly tensed up at the older fairy's presence.

"Why have you called me here?"

"He… He wants help getting his happy ending," Tinkerbell began to explain, turning her face to him for a brief moment, and then looking back at the fairy. "I thought you might –"

"Have you already forgotten our rules, Green?" Blue inquired sternly, cutting her off.

Tinkerbell doubted for a second.

"I know, but I… I wish to believe whether they be heroes or villains, everybody deserves a shot at a happy ending."

Blue's lips then pursed into a thin line. "Very well, but _still_ – we can only serve people of pure heart. And his heart…"

And for the first time since she'd appeared, the blue fairy stared directly at him. Her face seemed tainted with something that resembled disappointment, and for some reason, it had Killian growing anxious – which was bloody ridiculous, having that she was a five-inch-tall sparkly lass. Still, it felt like she could see right through him; see his heart, dark and rotten, thumping against his ribcage.

She turned her face back to Tinkerbell. "His heart is filled with darkness."

"You know, I'm right here, actually," Killian scowled, annoyed at the tone in which the fairy spoke of him, and then added, more to himself. "I should've known it was stupid to try get help from bloody fairies."

The blue fairy seemed unfazed by his words, and for the first time in the conversation, she addressed him. "So tell me, Captain; what is it that your heart desires? And please, do be honest."

He was certain it was some sort of trick question.

"A way out of this island," Killian began, yet the look the fairy gave him said she wasn't satisfied with his answer, so he added, with a bit more honesty, "to kill the dark one."

Silence followed right after, as Blue seemed to be absolved in deep thought for a couple of seconds, before nodding. "Are you certain that's what you want? What'll bring happiness to your life?"

"Aye," he responded with a nod. "It's what's kept me going all of these years."

Blue didn't seem convinced. He understood her hesitation; as pure beings fairies are, they're unable to comprehend feelings like hatred. To them, the idea of a happy ending being brought by revenge is inconceivable, but to him, it's all he has.

Family. Love. Any chance of a happy future. It had all been stripped away from him, leaving him with nothing but unhealing wounds and bitter feelings.

Would killing the crocodile make it all better? He wasn't sure. Perhaps he was bound to die trying, and he would embrace that fate entirely. It's all he's got left to live for, and if it means dying to avenge his beloved, then he'd die a happy man.

Silence surrounded them for a few moments.

"You will get your happy ending, captain. I cannot grant you any wishes, for you're not of pure heart. But I can tell you something. A piece of information that'll help you in your journey," Blue stated with a sigh, and then continued on: "You need to look for a girl, in the Enchanted Forest. You could call her a princess. She'll lead you to what you're seeking."

The statement had him raising his eyebrows in curiosity. _A princess?_

Still as useful as the information could possibly be, it meant nothing to him as long as he remained in Neverland.

"And how in the bloody hell am I supposed to get back to the Enchanted Forest?"

Blue scowled at the language he used. "All in due time, Captain. The moment you're meant to leave this island, will be the moment where you will."

Killian frowned deeply, and looked back at Tinkerbell; she shrugged lightly, giving him a look that told him, ' _I can't do anything about it'_. It had all been just a waste of time; he was still as far from his revenge as he'd been before. He'd come looking for a way out of Neverland, and clearly, he wasn't getting anything useful out of the fairy.

"What does your information matter, if I still am stuck on this bloody island?" he asked with annoyance.

"You fear I'm wasting your time on purpose," Blue replied, unfazed by the pirate's clear disgust. "I'm not. You're still here for a reason; this girl you have to look for – she hasn't been born yet."

The words caught him off guard, making his expression turn into one of confusion.

Blue continued, "Just be patient, and you'll find the answers to all your questions. Or perhaps, the more accurate thing to say is – they will find **you**. Now, I must leave you both."

Blue raised the wand in her hand, ready to poof herself out of sight; yet she couldn't leave him like that. He still had questions he needed to be answered, his mind racing from the vague information he'd just gotten from the fairy.

"Wait!" Killian was quick to stop her, taking a step forward. "How am I supposed to find the lass if I don't even know her name?"

Blue hesitated; there was a sparkle in her eyes, as she still held her wand up the air. The slightest of smiles appeared on her face.

"Belle."

* * *

And there he was; thirty years later he'd finally managed to briefly get on Pan's good side, and stroke a deal with him so he'd be able to leave the land. Finally a step closer to his revenge, and he knew exactly what his next step had to be: finding that Belle girl.

He found that gathering information about the girl was easier than he believed; she appeared to be a fairly well-liked princess throughout the forest, and people more often than not were eager to speak about her in a fond manner. While he had no idea of what her face was or what she might look like, it's not difficult to picture her – smart and beautiful and kind.

A glint of pity would often at some point graze the faces of the people he asked about her, "Poor child, struck a deal with the dark one to stop the ogres' war. They have not bothered us since, but he took her in exchange. Keeps her as a maiden in that foul castle of his."

The more he asked around throughout the days, however, he found some more useful information about her current whereabouts – lately, a couple of commoners had seen her around the forest, walking freely for the first time in years.

And while he'd spend most of his day focused on his task, when night falls he's unable to refuse himself the enjoyment he's missed ever since being stuck in Neverland. Each night, his men welcome him with drunken cheers as he enters the tavern, as they've wasted no time to spend their riches in whores and rum since the moment they'd left the ship.

A few bottles of rum later, Killian would often grab one of the girls that had sat with him during the evening, and take her to his ship.

It's purely lust, of course; just pleasure and release for him, nothing else. He can't remember any of the women he's slept with since _her_ – he's usually too drunk to remember their faces.

And even if he were sober enough to make out their features, it still would not mean a thing.

This one has brown eyes and black hair.

And still, she's just a blank space to him.

He knows Killian Jones, a man of honor, would hate the idea – thinking of women as objects, only meant for him to succumb to his carnal desires and get him to those short seconds of bliss, where he could briefly empty his mind and just feel.

But, the thing is, Killian Jones had died an awful long time ago.

Or at least, that's just what he wants to think – just because it's a lot easier, separating his persona into two; two different people that could never coexist with each other.

Past and present. Good and bad.

Killian Jones, the loyal lieutenant.

Captain Hook, the ruthless pirate.

It could never be that easy. He knew it, felt it in that sinking guilt, the emptiness that followed him after he crashed next to the woman, still breathless from his release.

As much as he tried to deny it, he's afraid he never will be able to fully get rid of the good, weak part of him.

He's still Killian Jones, deep down.

And so, he searches for Belle during the day, and celebrates with his crew during the night; until a couple of weeks pass, and he'd finally found an information useful enough to make him gather his crew and set sail.

A couple of days later he found himself making port in another town, walking into the small tavern word said she'd supposedly last been seen at.

Killian sat on one of the stools by the bar, and asked for a glass of ale, taking a big sip of it once it was handed to him.

He didn't take long to ask the old man behind the bar about it, and as usual, the answer he got wasn't an easy one.

"Yes, I remember her. She'd paid to stay the night over one of our rooms," the man spoke thoughtfully, recalling the moment. "She didn't stay, though. Left with a couple of men – didn't say where, son, and it couldn't have bothered me enough to ask."

Killian chugged on the remains of his glass, thumping it loudly against the wooden surface. He then pulled out a small fabric filled with small golden coins, much more than what the glass of ale costs, and handed it to the elder. "If she or any of the men you saw her with come back here, let me know, aye?"

"Of course, captain," the man replied quickly, slightly cowering at the annoyed tone in the pirate's voice.

Killian exited the bar with disgust clear in his face – the lass was quickly becoming a pain in the ass to find, and while Killian believed himself to be a patient man, he'd waited _two hundred years_ already, and his revenge being held back by a sneaky princess wasn't an idea he enjoyed.

However, he couldn't help but be somewhat amazed at the lass. Not many get away from the Dark One's claws, much less break deals with him and remain unscathed.

He understood now why Blue spoke that name to him – as she's probably the only person who's lived close to him in very many years; if anyone has any information of where he and his dagger lies, it's her. He just needs to find _her_.

Blue's words echo inside his head, _perhaps, the more accurate thing to say is – they will find_ _ **you**_ _._

Perhaps, he thought, he just needs to wait for the right moment.

And that was when he saw her.

She was alone, picking strawberries from a small booth, placing them in a small basket she carried on her left hand. A large part of her face was covered by the hood placed over her head, but still, from what he could see she was one of the most beautiful girls he's laid his eyes on.

He felt even if she were in the middle of the largest of crowds, he still would've seen her.

Something about her just popped out – it's almost as if she glows, irradiates an energy that kept his eyes glued to her.

Or perhaps, it's just the fact that between her delicate looks and the flawless white robes she wore, she probably is the most expensive thing he's ever looked at.

She looked like a treasure to him.

And so, like the pirate he is, he began to move towards her.

* * *

 **A/N: I know nothing much is going on in this chapter, but it serves as a brief introduction for the first part of the story (which'll be divided in three parts)! Don't worry, our babes will be meeting already next chapter mwahaha.**

 **Also, just to clear some things: while I'm going to be basing a lot of things in this fic off of OUAT canon, some details will be changed and played with just so it fits with the story. I'll be changing some of the characters ages, just as I'll be playing with the layout of the lands and kingdoms in the EF.**

 **Lastly, I would like to apologize to anyone who followed my previous story on this site. I'm afraid as of now, the story will remain incomplete as I've lost inspiration for it, and my main focus right now is this little baby right here!**

 **With all that said, I hope you enjoyed the beginning of this lil journey. Feedback is appreciated!**


	2. The Necklace

**Chapter Two: The Necklace.**

"Hey daddy," Emma greeted her father as she hurried into the large throne room, walking up to him and placing a gentle kiss on his scalp.

David grinned widely back at his daughter; years had taken its toll on him, as more than just a few grey hairs had now adorned his head, and some wrinkles had become more prominent. Despite all that, he still looked as good and strong as ever.

The king seemed surprised for a moment by his daughter's presence, love filling his gaze as he took her hand in his, just as if she were still a child. "Hey, dear. What are you doing here?"

"Just to remind you of our sword-fighting lesson today," Emma told him, and his eyes widened for a moment in realization, to then sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I'm so sorry, darling, I forgot about that." He looked as guilty as he could be, and rubbed his face in frustration. "I organized a council meeting that'll be starting in just a few moments."

Emma's eyebrows raised at the words. While she had never been to one of their meetings, she knew the council would often meet to discuss themes of big importance to their kingdom. She couldn't help but feel her stomach slightly turning. "Why? Has something happened?"

"Nothing you should worry about," David reassured her, and the king's calm voice was as always enough to soothe her. "The Ogre's war might be long over, but our armies still took a big blow from it. We're in talks to form alliances with the islands to the north. It'll help us regain our former strength faster."

For many years, hers and plenty other kingdoms had faced surely the worst rebellion of the past few decades. The ogres, ruthless and vile, had attempted to slaughter and destroy everything within their reach; and during the time the war had lasted, a large number of their armies had been taken down.

It had been what brought Belle and Emma together. Lord Maurice and his daughter would come to her castle more often than not, as his and her parents' kingdom had struck an alliance to defeat the ogres. And in the many days their parents would meet and strategize, the two princesses found friendship in one another.

A few years later, Belle had done what both of them had always dreamt of, yet Emma didn't really have the courage to do: she'd decided to stop watching from the sidelines, and struck a deal with Rumplestiltskin. Since then the war had ended, along with their long nights of friendships; but, as Emma learned at that moment, being a princess meant all that should truly matter was nothing more than the kingdoms' well-being.

Things had been peaceful since then; still, peace didn't always mean everything was alright. War, as always, left nothing but destruction behind, leaving her parents with the burden of a slightly broken kingdom they'd only begun to slowly help recover from the blow.

A lot of times, she'd see her parents awake late hours of the night, frustrated looks on their faces. Being king and queen was never an easy job, much less in times of war and destruction.

Emma gave her father a kind smile. Oh, how she just hoped they could ever get some rest from it all. "Good luck, daddy."

"I'm sorry about our lessons," he apologized again, looking sheepish. "We can do two hours of practice tomorrow, to make up for it."

Emma smiled dearly at her father. "Don't worry about it, dad," Emma reassured him. "I'll be fine; probably I'll go take Autumn for a ride instead. Maybe I could even visit Red."

The older man grinned in response. "That's a great idea, darling." He nodded in approval. "Have fun, sweetheart."

Giving him a final kiss on his forehead, Emma walked off from the throne room. Just as expected, as she was about to walk through the large doors, David's voice stopped her.

"And Emma?"

She turned her face around to watch him, "Yes, dad?"

There was a slight frown on his face. "Please, be careful."

Emma chuckled softly.

"I will be, daddy."

* * *

Emma walked into the stables, crown left back at the castle as it drew much attention while going through the forest. Red's home was among the forest nearby her castle; it took her less than ten minutes riding, but her parents taught her to always be careful while outside the castle.

Her horse was the chestnut-colored one, Autumn, and Emma gently patted her, offering her a treat.

"Hey, baby girl," she muttered to her. "Wanna get out of this place?"

The horse neighed in response, almost as if she'd understood the words perfectly.

Nearly every single day, Emma would take her out on a ride, all throughout the castle's grounds. They would go in circles, watching the same old surroundings before Emma would take her back to the stables, and say goodbye for the day.

Today, however, she rode past the grounds and past the large bridge that joined her castle with the woods. While all the trees are nearly identical, Emma knew that small part of the woods well enough so she wouldn't get lost. The path to Red's house is one of dirt, and Emma had learned it by memory, being the only place outside of the castle she was allowed to go to on her own.

After about five minutes of riding, Emma halted as the trail split into two different directions. She perfectly knew that Red's house is following the road on the right, still…

She'd followed the other road a couple of times before, yet, she's never done it by herself. It leads to the nearest town, a place she had only been to accompanied by her parents and a couple of royal guards.

It always made her feel just as trapped as if she were back to the castle.

She understood, though. Her parents had gone through so many things, so many dangers that threatened to destroy their happiness forever. And while the main source of their problems, Regina, had been gone from the lives ever since she was born, it was clear they still feared she would come back, to take away the happy ending they had finally managed to build.

Emma could sometimes see it in their eyes when they looked at her. Hidden behind that deep love they had for her, was fear. Fear that Regina would ever come for her. Fear that they'd lose her.

She understood, truly.

But she also understood, that her life could not be controlled by fear.

She wanted to leave her mark on the world, just like her parents did.

And she wouldn't do that by following the same, old path she always took.

* * *

By the time she had reached the town, Emma had planned all of her excuses out.

She'd left Autumn back in a little stable, paying a couple small coins so she'd get water and some rest, as she headed out to the marketplace. She thought of getting something for Red, as it would perfectly justify why had she taken so long, and why'd even come to town in the first place.

It would also buy Red's silence if her parents were to ever ask anything.

Emma stopped at a small booth, one selling all kinds of fresh vegetables and fruits, and hummed in delight as she spotted just what she'd been hoping for: a large number of beautiful strawberries, Red's all-time favorite fruit.

Emma entertained herself by examining each of the little fruits, picking out only the reddest and largest of them and placing them in a small basket. It was a couple of moments later, once she'd had the equivalent of a couple of big handfuls in the basket, that she decided it was just about enough, and she addressed the man sitting behind the booth.

"How much for the strawberries?" she asked him, pulling out a couple of silver coins from a small bag in her belt as the man responded, and she held out her hand, handing out the coins to the older man.

"Have a good day, ma'am."

"You too. Thank you," Emma said kindly, curtsying out of instinct, forgetting for a moment where she really was.

She didn't fail to notice the odd look the man gave her just before she turned around and began walking back to the stables.

Clearly, she had all the mannerisms of being a princess plastered all over her entire being; and if she wanted to stay out of trouble and fit in, she had to find a way to disguise them.

While she enjoyed watching the commoners around the town, wondering what stories may lie behind tall men heading to work and young women taking care of children; she also came to realize, she was not the only one staring. Her eyes locked a couple of time with people that walked past her, giving her quick, strange looks that made her feel slightly uneasy.

With one hand, she pulled up the white hood over her head, covering the long, perfectly-braided golden hairs. She hoped that would make the strange feeling, like a burning in her neck, disappear.

Emma was well-aware she easily stood out from everyone else around the town. She looked out of place, from the way she dressed to how she moved and acted. And surely, she thought, it wouldn't be long until people started whispering into each other's ears, wondering about that blonde girl that had shown up in town, looking very alike to the crown princess.

Her parents would surely be asking her lots of questions.

The idea put her on edge, and she hurried up her pace slightly, wondering if coming to town had been a good idea in the first place after all. She decided, the faster she got going to Red's house, and the fewer people look at her, the better.

But she'd only gotten a couple of hurried steps out of the way, before a voice spoke right from behind her, making her jump and turn as quick as she could; the harsh movement causing the hood to fall off her head.

" _Leaving already, love?_ "

The voice was coated with a deep accent, and as she turned around, she found a young man staring at her curiously, a thick eyebrow raised. Her first impression of him is that he's handsome. He's tall and lean, with a sharp jawline, and his slightly tanned face covered by a dark stubble.

However, past him being handsome, there was something about the man that had alarms ringing loudly in her brain, warning her to keep as far as she could from him. The more she looked at him, she realized he certainly looked more menacing than handsome – he wasn't dressed like any of the commoners she's seen before; it's all leather and black, and his eyes, so blue it startles her, were outlined by black kohl, and there was a mischievous glint to them, just as he flashed his teeth at her in a grin.

She took a step back, and asked, "Excuse me?"

He chuckled, probably at the baffled expression on Emma's face, and then repeated himself: "I asked if you were leaving already, love. You seem in a hurry."

"I, well – I am." Emma blinked a couple of times, wishing she could come up with something better than just _that_ , still she couldn't think of anything else to say, and closed her mouth.

His looks definitely stood out to her; she's never seen this man in her life before, yet he felt familiar to her for some reason. Like she'd seen someone like him in one of her many books; and the more she looked at him, she was positive that was true. A word seemed to be dancing around the tip of her tongue, yet her memory had it blurred out, and no matter how hard she tried she seemed unable to remember.

"Where are my manners? Killian Jones, at your service."

The man, Killian, then curtsied and reached out for her hand, just as any of the noblemen that visited her in the castle would've. He brought her hand to his lips, soft and careful against her skin, the stubble ticking her.

He lingered just a bit longer than most men did back in her castle, and spoke lowly as he pulled away his lips from her skin. "And you are?"

The moment he loosened his grip, she pulled away from him, taking another step back.

She wasn't a fool, of course, and she knew telling him her name was surely the most idiotic thing to do in a situation like that. While Emma was not an uncommon name around the kingdom (her birth had brought many women to name their baby girls like that, in honor of the royal princess), anyone could easily look at her and connect the dots. She did not look like a commoner, she was sure he'd figured that out already, and having him realize she was a princess would only make her situation a whole lot worse.

Her mind collapsed for a brief second, as no name came to her right away – and in the end, she managed to stammer the first name that popped into her brain:

"Ruth."

Her grandmother's name, of course.

Killian stared at her for just a moment, and Emma swore she could feel his eyes burning right through her. After a brief hesitation, he took a short step towards her, as he asked, "Where were you headed off to, Ruth?"

Something gave her an urge to flee – perhaps the fact that she's a princess, and he looked like the definition of danger and he was just _too close_.

Still, she found her voice and spoke: "Home." She realized it wasn't a good enough answer, and added, hoping it'd sound convincing. "A farm, in the woods."

Killian watched her for a couple of seconds, eyes roaming through her figure, and Emma could read it right in his face, that he didn't believe her one little bit. She couldn't blame him, after all; it was clear she did not look like just a simple farm girl.

"I don't think so," Killian claimed with a chuckle, shaking his head.

"Why's that?" The question left her mouth before she's even thought about it, and she regretted it right away.

He threw her an amused look. "Your hands were too soft for a farm girl. And your garments… They're too refined."

A hand reached out to her neck, pulling back the blonde braid that rested on her shoulder, taking a better view of the necklace made out of precious gems that rested around her skin – except it's not a _hand_ , and she inhaled a deep breath, eyes wide as the sharp tip of the hook came near to the skin of her neck.

Emma quickly took a step back from it, only to realize that at some point she'd gotten herself backed out against the wall of the back of a small store.

So, this was it. The moment she'd always dreamt of, where she'd prove she was more than just some little, weak princess. That she was brave.

But truth was, her knees wobbled and her stomach turned, and she tried to speak something to him, but the only thing that managed to leave her mouth was a strangled noise that sounded very much like: " _– Hook._ "

Killian then pulled his hook away from her, looking slightly surprised at her reaction, before an amused chuckle left his lips. "Aye, love, that's me. _Captain_ Hook."

He emphasized on the word _captain_ , and that's when it dawned on her why he looked somewhat familiar.

Pirate, that was the word she'd been looking for.

She'd read about them in one of her many books. Vile people, who stole and lied and killed, all for their treasures.

And she, a princess, could easily be the subject of a pirate kidnapping.

"A pirate, then," Emma replied, eyebrows raised slightly.

"Aye. And you, lass, are not a farm girl," Killian told her with certainty.

"So? What am I then?" she dared him, voice coming out braver than she felt herself to be, and for a moment she feared her defiance was going to anger the man.

But instead he let out a laugh, and for the first time, she saw it reaching his eyes, lighting them up for just a moment. "I don't know, lass, but you sure do seem of value."

She felt her heart slightly speeding up, as something in his voice has triggered the danger alarms in her brain once more, and he's just way too close for her liking.

But then, just like that, he took a step away from her.

"The necklace, if you please," he said almost _too nicely_ , yet she feared that behind the words was an order, one she probably shouldn't try to defy.

Emma hesitated for a moment; that particular necklace was a delicate gift given to her many years before by her parents, and her favorite. She hated the idea of giving it to this man, so he'd get quite a few golden coins for it; to then probably spend them on liquor and woman.

She wished she had her sword with her, or any sort of weapon for the matter. David had taught her to defend herself quite well during the past many years, but she was now out in the real world and she was defenseless, with nothing but her bare firsts to help herself – and surely this man was a lot taller and much stronger than she was, and she had no choice but to sigh in defeat and unclasp the necklace behind her neck.

Killian gave her a small nod of approval as she handed him the small piece of jewelry. "Lovely making business with you," he said with a grin, as he placed the necklace in his satchel.

She felt humiliated and angry, and at that moment all she could possibly want was to punch that stupid grin out of his stupid face. Still, she inhaled deeply and clenched her fists, containing herself. "Yeah, as long as I don't have to ever see you again," she said through gritted teeth.

He took a couple of steps back, finally giving her some space to move. "Don't get all upset with me now, love. I was thinking you could perhaps join me for a drink – that'll make up for this little incident."

His voice had now become low and sulky, and he raised an eyebrow and smirked at her, like he was daring her.

Emma could certainly now feel her blood boiling at the nerve the pirate had. "Don't even dream about it, pirate."

He leaned slightly into her. "You sound _too_ certain, love. The thing about pirates, lass, is we always take what we w– _oomph!_ "

Emma took the opportunity as soon as she saw it, using up all of her strength to raise up her knee and kick him right in the groin. As he bent down in pain, she out of instinct dropped the basket full of strawberries and quickly grabbed onto the satchel, pulling on it until the band snapped, and she had it pressed tightly against her chest.

She realized right away it was definitely heavier than she'd expected, and clearly, there was much more inside than just her necklace. She was surely stealing more from him than he had from her, but she pushed past the guilt almost immediately – the darned pirate had it coming, after all.

Emma pushed past him, no longer cornered, and grinned, "Lovely making business with you, Hook!"

She felt a delicious joy running through her being as she teased him, and saw how behind his grimace of pain, anger quickly flashed through his blue eyes.

And before the pirate could compose himself and take the satchel right out of her hands, she was already running the opposite direction.

After moments of running, once Emma was positive that she'd lost the pirate entirely, she allowed herself to stop, leaning against the wall of one of the small houses as she caught her breath.

Looking around, she realized she was in a part of the town she'd never really been to before. None of the houses nor the roads seemed in any way familiar to her, and the thing was, she didn't quite remember the path back to the stables where she'd left Autumn. She was certainly lost.

She thought perhaps she could ask any of the passing commoners for directions, but she quickly threw the idea away. The last thing she wanted was to draw anyone's attention back to her again.

So, Emma walked around the town, trying to spot the stables, or just anything familiar enough to orientate her and set her back on her way home.

Surely, this had all been enough adventure for one day. She'd proven what she'd wanted to prove, and Emma was smart enough to know the right thing to do now was leave before any more trouble came looking for her.

And by trouble, she meant a certain, surely now very angry, pirate.

Sure enough, she wasn't walking around the town for long before a strong arm wrapped around her, and she let out a shriek as she felt something sharp press against her neck.

"You have spunk, lass, I give you that." She didn't have to watch his face to know it was Killian the one whispering dangerously into her ear. "Bad form, stealing a pirate's gold."

"Is it stealing if it was already stolen?" Emma scoffed, still too aware of the hook that threatened to pierce through her skin oh-so-easily.

She felt a warm breath against her skin as he chuckled, and she was able to smell the bitter scent of alcohol.

"Give me my stuff back, love, and I promise I will do you no harm."

She expected to find a lie hidden behind the words, but she found none. He was speaking the truth; he'd allow her to leave unharmed as long as she returned everything to him. It was the easy thing to do, of course; give him his stuff back and leave, yet she felt her own pride holding her back from doing just that.

Before she could contemplate what to do, her interest is piqued as she spotted the figure of two royal guards patrolling not too far from them around the streets. An idea quickly popped into her brain; one she knew well enough would probably get her in trouble – if they recognized her, which they probably would, they'd be taking her right away to the king and queen, and they probably wouldn't be too pleased to learn she'd been to the town and gotten into a fight with a dangerous pirate.

But still, the pirate and herself had just started a war, and she was sure as hell going to do anything in her power to not let him win.

Blood pumped faster than ever through her veins as she decided her next move, and screamed: "Help! HELP!"

It ends up working out even better than she'd expected. The loud scream threw the pirate aback, and he pulled the hook away from her neck, distracted enough for her to be able to break free from his grip, just as the guards turned around and spotted them, marching quickly towards them.

Emma didn't take even one moment to hesitate, running the opposite way before either he or the guards could get to her. She heard the pirate curse and shout behind her, still, it doesn't make her stop.

She does stop dead in her tracks, however, a couple of moments later as she spotted yet another guard, walking the street towards her direction. Her heart dropped to the ground; she'd made it so far, she was so close to getting home, and yet she was going to get caught just then and there.

She'd get caught, and surely her parents would forbid her from ever leaving the castle all by herself again.

Emma's mind raced as she tried to think of a way out of this, yet before she could contemplate another route to take, a hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her to a side.

"Gotcha, love," a voice already too familiar said triumphantly, almost as if they were children and he'd just won a simple game of cat and mouse.

She held back a scream, instead covering her mouth with a hand, keeping silence as she turned her head to the street – the guard passed by without even turning to look at them, as they were hidden by the darkness of the alley.

Emma let out a deep breath, face warm and heart racing from all the insanity she'd just experienced the past few minutes.

It doesn't take more than a couple of seconds for Killian to let go of her, and she allowed herself to lean against the warm wall, closing her eyes for a moment as she focused on her own breathing.

She wondered what her parents would say if they saw her now. Probably, _I told you so._

When Emma opened her eyes, she found that the pirate had his eyes set on her, in a curiosity-filled gaze. He had leaned against the wall as well, and he held a canteen in his good hand.

"You're not what I expected," he commented with a smirk, as he pressed the canteen to his lips, taking a large sip of it. Once he was finished, he held it out to her. "Drink?"

She eyed the canteen for a moment, knowing accepting a drink from a stranger was not a good idea – after all, her family had a history with strangers and poison. Still, not caring about whatever drink was in the small flask, she ignored the question altogether, and instead addressed his first statement, deep frown on her face. "You barely know me–"

"You're sort of an open book," Killian interrupted her, matter-of-factly, and then shrugged. "The way you move and speak, it's not like anyone else here. You're something else, lass. Type of girl who's always gotten everything she wants without having to lift a finger, probably. And yet, you bested me twice out there."

"Yeah, well, I'm much different than you think," Emma snapped, angered by the fact that this stranger had the nerve to act as if he _knew_ her.

He knew _nothing_ – not a thing about her. Yet she had an awful feeling that he actually did; he'd been reading right through her since the moment he saw her.

Killian chuckled. "Indeed. There's a little pirate in you, love."

"You're wrong," she quickly refuted, offended by the words. "You… You pirates are thieves and deceivers, and I – _I'm none of that._ "

"Still, you've been lying about you being a farm girl," he simply stated. And then, his eyes dropped to the satchel in her hand, and she followed his gaze. "And you could say you've stolen from me, too."

The fact that she knew he was right took her aback for a couple of seconds; yet she was so determined to try and prove him wrong, the next thing she does, she does it without even thinking: she threw the satchel at him, provoking a surprised look from the pirate as he immediately caught it. "I don't want it."

However, she regretted the action as soon as she saw the satchel in Killian's hands, remembering she had forgotten to take the necklace out of it.

All that trouble, all for him to remain victorious, with his gold and her necklace back into his possession.

Killian seemed to notice that detail as well, as he kept an eyebrow raised while he opened the satchel, examining its contents.

And, much to her surprise, he then pulled out the piece of jewelry and threw it back at Emma, who caught it out of reflex. "We're even now."

She opened her mouth to ask _why_ , yet she found herself stammering, and ended up speaking just a baffled: "Thank you."

They seem like they've reached a middle ground, and Emma felt her own body finally starting to relax slightly.

Killian nodded at her, and a cocky look appeared on his features as an idea seems to pop into his head. "My offer of sharing a drink with you still stands, lass."

As she felt now less on edge, instead of feeling angered by the offer, she lets out a mocking snort. "Sharing a drink with a pirate? Sounds like danger to me," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"You've already proven you can defend yourself quite well," he chuckled. "I'll be looking forward to it."

Her eyes widened slightly, as he'd just cockily assumed she'd agreed to it.

But the thing was, would she really consider going for a drink with him?

 _Not in a million years._

"I wouldn't hold my breath, Hook," she spoke, and she caught the ghost of a smile on his face right before she turned to walk away from the alley and him. Still, she doesn't take more than a couple of steps, before his voice made her halt.

"What's your name, lass?" Killian asked her, still leaning against the wall.

Emma turned her head quickly and saw a curious look on his face. It made her slightly nervous. "I already told you. It's Ru-"

"I mean your real name," Killian interrupted her, making her confident look falter. Had he figured who she really was already?

She didn't believe so, as she could sense real curiosity behind his voice. Apparently, she was just not as good giving lies as she was detecting them. So, instead of coming up with another lie, she decided to just imitate the smirk on his face.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

* * *

"Granny, I know how to make strew, for god's sake!"

Red groaned in annoyance, as the older woman gave her directions and tried to step into the kitchen.

"If you knew how to make stew, then you would've known that the potatoes are added last!" the elderly woman complained, slowly making her way to where the taller woman was. "Now, step away, child, and let me handle this the right way."

"Whatever you say, Granny," she said with a roll of her eyes, wiping her hands on the front of her apron, and stepping aside.

Even though her grandmother was nearly one hundred years old, she was still as insufferably stubborn and bossy as she ever was.

Red was about to sit on the couch, waiting for Granny to finish at the kitchen, when a couple of knocks were heard on the door.

"I didn't know we were expecting visitors today."

"Neither did I, Granny."

Red doesn't need to open the door to know who it is; the familiar scent reached her nose before she even had touched the doorknob, and a grin appeared on her face.

As a child, she'd always had wished for a sister. Fate had blessed her, giving her Snow White, and Red wouldn't have it any other way.

Years later, as Snow had introduced her to her newborn baby, Red had felt her heart swelling with love.

Fate had blessed her with yet another baby sister.

And just like she did with Snow, she would rip the throats of anyone who dared harm her sweet goddaughter.

"Emma!" The older woman threw her arms around the blonde as soon as the door was opened. "I had no idea you'd be visiting me today."

There was something different – a faint smell, almost unnoticeable.

Red breathed into her hair, trying to pick it up. It was weak, but it was there.

A faint bitterness; salty sea mixed with something else.

When Red pulled back, she noticed what she had failed to see seconds before.

Emma's often impeccable hair was slightly tousled, wild hairs coming loose from her braid, sticking up in different directions. Her face was slightly flushed, and despite the smile on the princess' lips, she could see something off with her expression.

Red gave her a suspicious look. "What's going on?"

Emma inhaled deeply, sheepish look on her face.

"Keep a secret for me, Red."

* * *

 **A/N: And they finally meet! Things are bound the get interesting from now on. Thank you all for your feedback!**


	3. The Duckling

**A/N: Thank you all for the feedback you've been leaving so far on this story!**

 **Also, while this story is rated M for a reason, and the real stuff won't happen until quite a few chapters later, a brief warning that there's a really tiny, non-explicit mention of sex at the end of this chapter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: The Duckling.**

"Okay, now – sit down and explain what happened."

It's half an hour later, after Granny's insistence that she sat down and had some stew since she was looking _far too boney_ , that Emma was able to sit down on the older woman's bed and began telling the story.

She realized at some point while telling the story, that she'd dropped the basketful of strawberries during her little adventure sneaking away from the pirate, and she cursed to her insides, and cursed that darned pirate as well.

"…and he… he even had the audacity to act like nothing had happened, like everything was just water under the bridge, and asked me for a drink! Can you even believe it?"

Red, who had silently paid attention to the story, let out a couple of chuckles. "Okay, but will you go?"

The question threw Emma aback, and she glared at her godmother like she had just gone entirely bonkers. " _What?_ "

"Will you go have that drink with him?" she repeated herself, and Emma blinked a couple of times, disbelief clear in her face.

"Did you not just hear the part where I said he tried to steal from me? He's a pirate and I'm a princess, he could've kidnapped me!" Emma cried. "Also, isn't your duty as my godmother to tell me _not_ to go?"

"It is," Red nodded. "But I'm well aware no matter what I say, you'll end up doing whatever you wish to do. My dear, I was young once too. And I remember well how hard it was to resist a handsome man's offer."

Emma's eyes widened, and now she's _certain_ that the she-wolf had truly gone out of her mind.

"I never said he was–!" she exclaimed, indignant.

Menacing, yes.

Dangerous, surely.

Handsome? _No_ –

Red gave her a knowing look. "Those flushed cheeks of yours tell me all I need to know."

"It's because I'm angry," Emma scowled.

"It's because he's cute," Red said right back at her.

And Emma couldn't help but have her mind wander off to those pale blue eyes.

She shook the thought immediately.

"Okay, let's say he is. I'm still a princess, and I know better than to hang out with pirates!"

"Fair point there, dear," Red chuckled, "Relax, honey, I'm just messing around with you."

The conversation about her adventure around the town stops right there, and Emma decided Red would be the only one to ever learn about said incident. If her parents were ever to find out, they'd surely lose their minds over it.

A couple of days go by after that. And while Emma decided to keep going on normally with her life, and try and not put much thought into what happened, the thing is, most days she thought back to it.

She thinks back to him, cursing herself and cursing his stupid good-looks as each time she would feel a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

She wondered a lot of times if she was going mad. It certainly seemed like it, as it was madness to be blushing around as if she fancied the stupid pirate she'd just met.

Because she _didn't_ , of course.

She thinks back to how it'd make her feel, as he'd been dangerously close to her, hook pressed to her neck. The rush through her veins, the fastening of her heart.

Adrenaline, or perhaps something else?

But no – no matter the adrenaline nor excitement, no matter how she'd suddenly felt oh-so-alive as she faced the challenge, it wasn't something that could ever happen again.

 _Perhaps you could share a drink with me._

It was madness to even consider it.

And still, more often than not she had to shake the thought out of her head.

"You've been awfully quiet, my dear," Snow said, as they walked through the halls of the castle. "Something bothering you?"

"Oh, no, no," Emma snapped out of it quickly, giving Snow a reassuring smile. "Everything's good, I just… haven't got that much to say."

The older woman nodded, however, the slight deepening of the lines on her forehead told Emma that she wasn't that convinced.

Emma found, as Snow insisted a few moments later they go out for a ride together, that her mother could be a little more intuitive than she believed her to be.

"I know being inside the castle always can be frustrating," Snow had said. "Plus, we haven't gone out riding in a while now. We could even drop by visit Pinocchio–"

Pinocchio had left far behind his days as a young boy, having turned now into a tall, handsome man, now in care of his family business. Geppetto had passed a year ago already, leaving his only son to take care of the old woodshop.

After some minutes of riding, the queen and herself had stopped by the door of the woodshop. It didn't take long for him to open the door, showing them a wide grin as he greeted them kindly, allowing them into the wooden house.

He prepared some tea and cookies for the queen and the princess, and sat with them in a small table by the kitchen. They sit and talk and drink, until it's a bit more than an hour later, and the royal ladies decided it was time to say their goodbyes to him.

Emma left the woodshop, however, with something unexpected: a present, hugged tightly against her chest, just over where her heart laid, feeling troubled.

"An early birthday present for the princess," Pinocchio had said, presenting her the small wooden figure.

It was a beautiful bird, so delicate she could even see every single detail in its feathers.

"A swan?" Emma asked with curiosity, a smile on her face.

"I've always liked swans. Plus, I had a feeling you might like them as well," August responded with a shrug. "My dad always read me a story about swans when I was little. The ugly duckling, he called it. The duck who believed so deeply he could be a swan, he actually became one."

Emma listened to the story, holding the small figure tightly against her chest.

"My dad always said, believe hard enough in something and you can change your fate," he finished. "I thought you might appreciate that lesson."

Emma seemed dumbfounded by the words. "I do. I truly do," she spoke, and hugged him tightly. "Thank you."

"It was a lovely detail from August, don't you think?" Snow smiled kindly, as they both rode their horses back to the castle.

"It sure was," Emma replied, forcing a smile on her face.

The present was lovely, but _what did it mean?_ It felt like a heavenly sign had just landed right at her doorstep, screaming at her to just _snap out of it._

 _You can change your fate._

She just had to believe she could.

* * *

Emma was certain by now that she had entirely lost her mind.

There wasn't any good reason for her to be there; if anything, it felt just as if she was entering the wolf's mouth. It's probably the most foolish thing she had ever done in her life, yet she kept on repeating to herself that she'd come too far to back down now.

A sign that read ' _The Jackal's Inn_ ' adorned the doors to the local pub, and Emma could hear the euphoric screams and singing coming from the drunken men even from outside. She could feel her stomach turning with anxiety at not knowing what could possibly wait for her in there, and she hates it.

Why was she even doing this? Coming here, probably risking her life like a fool.

She swore she wasn't doing it for _him_ , because truly, she wasn't.

She was doing it because, somehow, she felt like she had something to prove. This was all a dangerous new world for her, far too different from her life in the castle, and if she backed down from it now – would she ever be more than just the fragile princess most would believe her to be?

Her mind flashed back to a couple of days before, when adrenaline had pumped through her veins, making her feel more alive than ever. The rush and the danger had blurred out together, creating something she'd never felt before; and she wasn't about to let that feeling become forever lost in her memory.

So, after a few moments of hesitation, Emma finally took a deep breath, and pushed the doors of the pub open.

The moment she stepped a foot into the pub, the first thing she noticed was that it was loud and dirty, and definitely _not_ a place a princess should ever be in. Women in dresses that didn't cover much, sitting in the laps of men that drank and laughed loudly, forcefully clashing their cups together and spilling ale all over the tables.

Certainly, she felt completely out of place in there, and she had to repeat to herself a couple of times that _she_ _ **could**_ _do this_. Quickly, she managed to find a table all for herself, the one farthest from the entrance, and farthest away from the loudest tables of customers.

She felt the sudden urge to look around; try to find a familiar face, catch a glimpse of those pair of blue eyes she'd told herself over and over she hadn't come here for. Yet, she fought the urge – she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of having her look for him.

Emma sat down on one of the chairs. She could feel her hands sweaty, and she anxiously dragged them down the fabric of her dress. She'd learned her lesson from her previous visit in town; and now the dress she was wearing that evening was one of the simplest and oldest she had, all brown and beige. All of her jewels had been left aside back in the castle in an effort to avoid yet again getting any suspicious looks from the people of the town.

"D'you want anything to drink, ma'am?" A woman with a deep accent asked, startling her. Emma looked up to find an attractive brunette with a forced smile on her face, carrying a tray with cups of different sizes on one hand. Emma couldn't help but notice the woman didn't look too happy, annoyance lying behind her smile.

Emma bit down her lip. She knew she should probably order something, instead of just sitting there alone in that table, doing nothing like an idiot; but she had never drunk anything of what everyone else in the pub seemed to be having. Back in the castle, she'd only ever had the best wines, served in fancy golden goblets. "Do you have wine?"

The question provoked a giggle from the woman. "No fancy drinks around here, princess – only rum and ale."

Hearing the word _princess_ come out from the woman's mouth made her feel like throwing up, and she tensed up at the idea that they've all already figured out who she really was. Quick enough, however, she identified the woman's tone as a mocking one, causing her to relax slightly, and instead frown at the waitress. "Nevermind, then."

" _Actually – bring us a bottle of the finest rum you have._ "

A voice startled them both, making them jump slightly, just as Emma's heart suddenly raced as she recognized it right away.

Killian appeared from behind the waitress, grin on his face as he sat down across the table from Emma. He then winked at the woman. "Make it fast, love."

"Of course, captain," she gently nodded at him, and even from afar, Emma noticed the blush creeping down the woman's cheeks right before she hurried away from the table.

It all made her roll her eyes; it was clear the pirate was well aware of his good looks, and the effects they could have on women. She guessed he would probably use them more often than not to get whatever he wanted; lure women in with his forget-me-not blue eyes and his cocky smile.

Was she about to become one of his victims?

 _No –_

"Aha, I knew you'd come, lass!" Killian claimed joyfully, cocky grin spread across his features, yet she noticed a glint of surprise buried deep in his tone. "I was starting to wonder, though, what was taking you so long.

"Told you I was a busy girl."

Killian let out a snort, rolling his eyes as he replied, voice dripping sarcasm. "Right – horses been giving you trouble, heh? Or perhaps it's the crops?"

He'd raised a teasing eyebrow at her. _Right_ ; her lie to him had been that she was Ruth, the farm girl. Still, it was clear he didn't buy any of it. Emma shifted in her seat nervously and cleared her throat. "Yeah – exactly."

"I give it to you, love," Killian began with a chuckle, "You're the most terrible liar I've met."

Emma glared at him, feeling her cheeks slightly warmer. _Crap_.

"Does it even matter?" She attempted to shrug it off.

"Well, I have no idea of who you are," he refuted. "I don't even know your name – and don't say it's Ruth. You certainly do not look like a Ruth."

Emma's lips pressed into a thin line. If she gave him her name, he'd then place the pieces together and…

She'd surely become subject of a pirate kidnapping. Though, she wondered, if her own safety was the only thing that concerned her.

Deep down, a part of her enjoyed this – like a game of play pretend, she had become a mysterious, daring, nameless girl; much more interesting than her reality as a princess.

She tried to think of anything she could say to keep her identity still hidden, and for some reason, she thought back to her latest present, the one that sat in the hairdresser back in her room.

 _You can change your fate._

"Swan." The word slipped out of her mouth before she even realized it; still, a smile crept up her face. The word felt natural in her mouth, and she then repeated it with more confidence: "Swan. You can call me that."

"Swan?" Killian repeated the word with a mocking snort, leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms. He raised an eyebrow. "That's the best next thing you can come up with?"

"There's nothing wrong with Swan. And it's the only name you're going to get from me," Emma stated with a frown, and he opened his mouth to argue, yet their small banter was quickly interrupted by the waitress showing up.

She placed two shot glasses on the table in front of Emma and Killian, and left the bottle right in the center. Emma noticed how the woman had made sure to graze her fingers along the pirate's shoulders as she left, flirty smile on her face.

"That always happens?" Emma asked with amusement right after the woman had left, nodding at where she'd just been, eyebrows raised.

"What can I say, love?" he shrugged, smug look on his face. "I've yet to find a woman who resists my charms."

Emma was sure she'd never known a person as cocky as he is, and it sure as hell annoyed her.

"I'm sure there's plenty who can," she replied with an eye-roll, watching him as he poured the drink on the glasses.

"You included?" Killian inquired as he offered her the small glass.

"Yes," she immediately responded, taking the cup from his hand.

Emma looked down at the clear drink, wrinkling up her nose as the strong scent reached her nostrils.

"Why'd you come here then, love?" he asked curiously.

Emma looked up at him, watching him as he took the glass to his lips and drank, placing the now empty glass on the table and watched her back, gaze filled with curiosity.

"It wasn't for you," she stated simply. She knew the answer wasn't enough, but how could she possibly explain her feelings to a complete stranger? How could she bare herself completely to him – tell him about how she wanted to be so much more than she already was, learn and see much more than what her life had offered her for nearly nineteen years.

How she wanted her life to offer her that feeling of rush, the excitement of not ever knowing what was about to come next.

"I came here for me," she decided to simply say instead of baring her feelings to him, knowing it wasn't a convincing answer still she didn't care, and allowed the drink to pour down her throat.

While Killian had drunk it as if it were mere water, Emma felt it burning all of her insides, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "What the hell was that?" she exclaimed, shutting her eyes tightly.

Killian seemed surprised, then amused by her reaction. "It's called rum, love. You've never drunk before?"

"I have but –" Emma began with a grimace, making him laugh. "The beverages I'm used to are by far less distasteful as this."

"Don't worry, love, you'll stop noticing by the third shot."

And turned out, he was right about that – by the third time she's put the cup to her lips, she discovered the taste was not as bad as she remembered the first time to be.

Along with that, Emma also discovered a feeling of lightheadedness – she's felt it before, back in her fifteenth birthday, as her parents had finally allowed her to have a couple of glasses of wine. She'd ended up stomping on everyone's feet as they tried to dance, claiming that ' _e'rything 's okay'_ to anyone that asked, and had woken up with the hell of a headache and a sick stomach the next morning.

So, the next time Killian tried pouring her yet another drink, Emma decided it was best to hurt her own pride slightly, and say no.

She'd beat him while fighting, he'd beat her while drinking.

It's that usual feeling of bravery that comes along with a couple of drinks, that allowed Emma to make the question that'd been bugging her since she'd met him, yet she'd been too afraid to ask.

"Can I ask you something?"

Killian raised an eyebrow at her. "Go ahead."

She cleared her throat, leaning over the table. "How'd you get it? I mean," she glanced down briefly at his left arm. "The hook."

Killian didn't seem bothered; in fact, it seemed like he'd actually been expecting the question. "It's a reminder. To kill the crocodile that took my hand," he stated calmly.

"A crocodile took your hand?" Emma repeated dumbfounded. Something about the way he spoke the words, made her feel unsure if he was really speaking of a crocodile per se.

"It's not a fun tale, love," he replied and took yet another shot of rum. "And not one I intend to share tonight."

There was a dangerous glint in his tone, one warning her not to try and push the subject any further, and she decided to keep quiet and not continue on asking.

"Now, I barely know anything about you, _Swan_." He was quick to change the subject of the conversation, and a small smile appeared on Emma's face as he used the nickname she'd told him. "Tell me something – _anything_."

Emma raised her eyebrows, "What do you want me to say?"

"Whatever comes to mind."

Emma hesitated; what could she possibly tell him that wouldn't give her away? All of her life revolved around her castle and her duties as a princess, and that was something she couldn't speak of while being with him.

But she was more than her life as a princess, wasn't she? That was what she'd been wanting to prove all along.

After a couple of moments, she opened her mouth and spoke the first thing that came to her mind:

"Well, I've… I've always wanted to see the world," she told him. "Even if it's just for a moment, to get away from here and pretend I'm just…"

A normal girl. Not a princess, not the product of true love, not someone to be cared after and protected. Free to do whatever her heart wished for, go wherever she wanted to.

"You're just…?" Killian repeated, asking her to continue on.

Emma sighed. "Someone different than who I am today."

Killian raised a questioning eyebrow. "And why would you ever want that?"

His eyes were buried into hers, and Emma had to look away for a moment, intimidated by how to her it seemed like he was looking into and analyzing each and every corner of her soul.

"My life isn't really interesting," she shrugged. "Surely not as interesting as a pirate's might be."

"I don't believe that." Killian leaned back into his seat. "You might as well be the most interesting lass I've encountered in a long time."

Killian's words faded into the background as another thing caught Emma's attention, and her eyes focused right behind him, noticing a couple of guards entering the pub.

Turning her head to the side, she looked out through the nearest window: she could barely see anything, as it was pitch black outside.

"Crap, how long have we been here?" Emma mutedly cursed, sinking slightly into her seat, hoping the guards wouldn't take a second look her direction. "I need to get going."

Killian seemed confused. "The night's still fairly young, lass."

"Yeah, but I _really_ need to go," Emma insisted, eyes flickering back to the guards, who spoke to one of the waitresses. Killian turned slightly, following her trail of sight. "I can't let them see me."

He looked back at her, his confusion turned into surprise. "You've gotten yourself into some trouble lately, Swan?"

"Yeah, you could say so," she mumbled with a frown. Could it possibly be that her parents were looking for her now?

Killian seemed thoughtful for a brief second, before sighing, and leaning closer to her. "See that door? It leads to the kitchens," he explained, discreetly pointing at the wooden door at the back of the pub. "There's a backdoor in there. I'll meet you outside, aye?"

Before she'd even gotten a chance to reply, the pirate had already gotten up to his feet, turning around from the table and walking off, passing right next to the guards in an awfully calm pace.

And the next thing he did had Emma raising her eyebrows in surprise.

He smacked down the arse of the waitress walking by, causing her to jump and turn around, searching for whoever had done so.

But as quick as the waitress had turned around, he'd already gone out of sight, leaving the woman to think it'd been one of the guards who'd smacked her.

"' _Ey, don't you have any manners?!_ "

Emma used the brief moment of distraction to her advantage, getting up to her feet and rushing towards the door.

The pub's kitchens felt definitely hot, and were a whole lot dirtier than the kitchens back in her castle. Emma hurried past a couple of cooks dicing up onions and carrots, and the hot cauldrons filled with what seemed a not-so-appetizing stew.

"Oi, what yer doing here, lass?!" one exclaimed, as she nearly ran into him.

Emma quickly pushed past him, exclaiming a _sorry!_ right before pushing the back door open and running outside.

The cold air of the street hit her, and just like that, she found herself alone in a small alley. The streets were awfully dark and silent, and Emma folded her arms over her chest, the chilly night air making her shudder.

It didn't take more than a minute for Killian to let himself be known.

"Swan."

"Hook," Emma nodded at him, as he took a couple of long steps towards her. "Thank you… for helping me back in there."

"No need to thank me, love," he shrugged, and then gave her a questioning look. "What could you have possibly done to have royal guards looking for you?"

Of course, he'd be asking questions.

With a sigh, Emma shook her head. "It's a long story, and I need to get home now."

It wasn't a lie, after all. And, surprisingly, Killian nodded in understanding.

"Another day then, lass," he said. "Should I accompany you, love?"

She chuckled at the chivalrous offer, one she hadn't been expecting from the pirate. "No need, captain. I can take care of myself."

"I've already noticed that," Killian replied with a small laugh.

They fell into silence, and Emma took it as her cue to leave. She nodded at him.

"Good night."

Killian didn't allow her to walk past him, however, as he grabbed her arm. "Wait, Swan –" he spoke, making her turn around to face him. "Come back – _soon_. I'll be waiting."

She tried to find malice or any glint of that usual mischief of his in his face, but instead, she found something that scared her slightly: _hope_.

"Why's that, Hook?" she wondered, the glimpse of a smile appearing on her lips. "Been enjoying my company?"

The usual cocky look on his face was quick to return to his features. "A pirate should not keep his treasure out of sight."

"So now I'm a treasure to loot?"

"Perhaps," he answered, and he seemed to be trying to hold back a faint smile. "I'm still trying to figure that out."

Emma wasn't sure of what he really meant with those words, but for some reason, it brought a smile to her face.

* * *

The cold night air and the long ride home helped Emma sober up slightly. She had no idea of how late it was, but surely, it was late enough for her to be in trouble.

Her assumptions were confirmed by the guard attending his night shift by the entrance of the castle, as she rode through the bridge.

"Your highness!" he exclaimed, as she halted her ride in front of him. She couldn't see his face through the helmet, but the tone in his voice expressed worry. "What were you doing outside, at these hours? The king and queen are worried sick."

Emma threw her head back slightly, and sighed. She was surely in lots of trouble. "I should've known."

"They've ordered us all to report immediately to them if we were to find you," the guard explained. "Allow me to accompany you inside, milady."

"There's no need, sir," Emma shook her head. "I perfectly know the way around my castle on my own. Thank you, still."

Leaving the guard behind, she led Autumn back to the stables, jumping off of her, and giving her a couple of pats as good night. And then, she walked all by herself through the dark, quiet grounds towards the castle.

Emma opened the large doors to the castle carefully and slowly, cringing slightly when the door creaked for a second. She was sure most of the castle's servants were already fast asleep, and the last thing she wanted was to make noise while entering and waking anyone up.

She wondered what she could possibly say as an excuse for her being outside, so late at these hours. Perhaps, if she only said she'd just lost track of time while being at Red's… but no, if her parents had been that worried to have guards looking for her, they surely had first made sure Red nor any of their friends had any idea of where she was.

Tip-toeing into the room, she quickly came to realize she didn't really have any time at all to figure her excuses out – as she quickly spotted her parents pacing around the large room as soon as the door had closed behind her.

Snow was the first to notice her presence.

"Oh, Emma!" Before Emma even knew it, Snow had already run towards her, and soft arms had wrapped tightly around her, and she had her mother's face buried deep in her hair. Soon enough, Snow pulled away from the embrace, taking a few moments to check Emma's entire figure, searching for any signs of damage. "We were so worried. Are you okay? What happened?"

"Mom, it's fine," Emma began, yet the frown on Snow's face only deepened.

 _Dear Gods, don't let me still smell of rum._

"Where were you?" David was the one to speak now, his look of concern imitating Snow's as he approached his daughter.

Emma could taste defeat before she'd even opened her mouth to speak; lying to her parents would be useless, so she just admitted: "I was… I was visiting the town."

As expected, she saw her parents' faces turn from concern to surprise and then, especially David's, to anger.

"The town? You mean you were out there at this hour, without guards, without any type of protection…" David began.

"I was doing just fine! Nothing happened to me, _I promise_ ," Emma interrupted with exasperation. "Can't you just place some trust in me already? I'm not a child anymore, I don't need someone watching over me everywhere I go."

"Honey, understand it's not you we don't trust, it's…" Snow quickly chimed in, trying to act as a mediator between the tempers of both father and daughter, yet Emma knew exactly what she was going to say.

For as long as Emma could remember, it'd been like that. Her peaceful kingdom hadn't always been peaceful, and her parents feared things would ever return to their old ways.

More specifically, that _she_ would ever return to her old ways, come back to haunt them and take away all that's precious to them.

So, they took extra measures to make sure Emma would always be safe. And Emma understood, mainly the days when she was in a good mood, but tonight –

She was just tired of not being able to just live her life.

"Regina's been gone for years now!" she snapped, frustrated, "Since I was born, and you're watching over me like I'm a baby, just because you're afraid she might get me!"

"There are things you don't understand, Emma," David responded sternly.

"I understand you've allowed your life be consumed by your fear of her coming back for us!"

"That's enough!" David rose his voice, and Emma flinched slightly. In the few moments he ever acted like this, she could see him more like the king he was, than the fatherly figure he'd always been. Decided and stern, a king anyone would be a fool to try and defy. "You cannot leave the castle without the royal guards, or your mother and myself. Do you understand me? That's an order."

Emma opened her mouth to argue, but the look on her father's face told her there was no point in it. She'd already lost the battle, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Fine," she claimed with a frustrated sighed. "Good night, mom. Father," Emma addressed him with a sharp nod, and turned away upstairs, to her room.

* * *

For some reason, as he laid on his bed, and the swift swaying of his ship relaxed him until he was nearly asleep, she popped right into his brain.

It wasn't the first time either – truthfully, she'd been appearing in his thoughts ever since he'd seen her walking around that town, looking like something he'd never seen before. She easily stood out from any crowd; not only for her beauty, but for something about the way she carried herself, so graceful and gentle. Yet, he'd seen her be sharp and fierce, a fiery personality contrasting against her perfectly polished looks.

He'd spent many nights after that first day thinking back to her, wondering if perhaps the beautiful girl who'd bested him twice had been just a mirage, a product of his imagination. After all, something about her definitely felt ethereal, magical – almost like a dream.

He had found himself more and more wondering if he'd ever see her again, even just for a moment, so he'd know she'd been real.

And then she'd showed up at the bar. He'd seen her, walking into the place with her head up high, and it was like she'd suddenly lit up the entire room. He'd felt hypnotized, suddenly not caring about the wenches who'd caught his attention earlier that evening.

It was she the only thing that suddenly occupied all of his thoughts.

At least, he'd gotten to know a little more about the mysterious girl that night. _Swan_ , that was her name – or at least, how she'd wanted him to call her. He'd at first laughed at the nickname she'd given herself, seeming ridiculous to him at first, still the more he thought about it, he realized it was damn spot-on. There was surely a swan-like grace to her.

But who was she, really? Not an ordinary girl, that was for sure. The question seemed to haunt him since he'd met her, and he wondered why was it that mattered so much to him learning the answer.

Why was it that he felt so determined to get to know her, to learn the mysteries that lied beneath that pretty face of hers –

He rubbed his hand through his face, hoping to shake the thoughts away. Whoever this bloody lass was, she should not be occupying his thoughts like this.

He'd come here to find information to help him kill the Dark One, not to flirt and lose sleep over a nameless beauty.

He couldn't lose his focus, now that he was so close.

And he wouldn't allow that Swan-girl to get under his skin just like that.

That's the last thought that popped into his brain, before the waves finish rocking him into sleep.

More often than not, his dreams start out happy. He'd sail the seas next to Liam, or peacefully hold Milah in his arms. He dreamt of himself as a man of honor, with the people he's loved and the opportunity of a good future.

But they all always ended up the same way. Fights and blood and death.

And loneliness.

It's all he remembers by the time he wakes up; the feeling of loneliness and hurt.

That night, right before his dreams twist and turn dark with every deep fear held in his heart, he dreamt of something different.

It's a woman. His eyes are closed but he could feel her under him, as his lips trail down and savor the salty taste of her skin, feeling every curve of her body.

He tasted every inch of her skin, over and over until she writhes and pants beneath him, and he feels her come undone.

It's only when he pulls back up to kiss her, settling between her legs, that he opens his eyes and locks them with hers – finding them to be a lovely shade of green.

By the morning, he remembered none of it.


	4. Leaps of Faith

**Chapter Four: Leaps of Faith.**

Emma woke up with a groan, feeling a drumming in her head that she soon realized were the sounds of knocking on her door.

"What is it?" she exclaimed as the knocking persisted, throwing the blankets off of herself.

"Breakfast, milady." Emma recognized the voice of one of her handmaidens, Jane, speaking right outside her door. "The king and queen are waiting for you downstairs."

For some reason, the idea of eating breakfast made her nauseous.

She quickly remembered why – the previous night and the three shots of rum reappearing into her head, and she pressed her hand over her mouth; the memory of the bitter taste of the beverage making her feel like she was going to vomit.

And then there was Killian, and her fight with her parents.

Emma groaned.

Since when had everything become so complicated?

She got up from her bed with a jump – cursing to herself for a brief second as the rushed movement had only worsened her headache, and then she walked to the door, opening slightly so she was face to face with her handmaiden.

"Tell them to begin without me. I'm not really hungry," Emma told her, feeling her mouth extremely dry. "Could you bring me some fresh water, though, Jane?"

Jane nodded, excusing herself and heading downstairs quickly.

Emma threw herself onto her bed as soon as the door was closed, shutting her eyes tightly as she willed her headache away. She focused on the sound of her breathing, her chest heaving, and she found herself nearly about to fall asleep once more.

She felt that no more than a minute had passed before knocks were heard on the door once more, and her eyes fluttered open.

"Come on in, Jane."

It wasn't Jane.

"Mom," Emma breathed out in surprise, raising up into a sitting position as her mother walked into the room, a tray of fresh fruits and bread and a jar of water perfectly balanced in her hands.

"Since you wouldn't come down, I thought I might bring you breakfast up here," her mother explained. "Hope you don't mind, sweetheart."

Snow left the tray on top of the table by the corner of her room, and sat on one of the chairs.

"I'm not hungry," Emma shook her head.

"You can eat later, then," Snow said sweetly, and Emma was certain her mother being there wasn't just because _breakfast was the most important meal of the day_. Sure enough, after a brief silence, the older woman inquired: "Are you still upset over what happened last night?"

As she'd always had, Snow acted as a mediator whenever there was an argument within the royal family. Her calm yet firm personality often soothed both father and daughter's more volatile behaviors.

"My father, he's… he's insufferable sometimes," Emma said with a scowl.

Snow sighed, getting up and walking towards the bed, sitting right next to Emma. "I know your dad can be a little stubborn sometimes, but so can you. And all he does, he does because he loves you. He was worried sick last night."

"Yeah, I know," Emma sighed, guilt making her feel even more nauseous than the hangover had. She took her mother's hand in her own. "I'm sorry I scared you last night, I just…"

"I know, my love," Snow interrupted her, sad smile on her face. "I'm sorry too. I wish I could've given you much more."

The words surprised Emma, who watched her mother wide-eyed. "No, mom – Mom, you've given me everything –"

"Oh, don't lie to me, child," Snow waved her words off. "I see it in your eyes. I know you want more than this… But being a princess means you have to put your kingdom first, always. It's never an easy life, but it can be a happy one, my dear. I know you've never been one to stand back and wait, but believe me, good things are in your fate," she tucked a strand of blond hair behind Emma's ear. "I've felt it in my bones since you were inside of me. You just have to wait and see."

All Emma was able to do in response was to hug her mother tightly.

"Thank you, mom," she said.

"I'll speak to your dad," Snow continued after pulling back. "I might be able to make him loosen up a bit about letting you go out every once in a while. Now, how about you finish up your breakfast and accompany me out – Hilda's coming tomorrow morning, so I thought we could buy some silks for our dresses."

Hilda was the queen's and princess' old seamstress. She was the one in charge of finishing up their dresses for the upcoming ball, and always, she made the most beautiful dresses, making both mother and daughter stand out from all crowd.

And while she wasn't feeling too enthusiast over the ball, she knew accompanying her mother would make her happy – and she could just not bear to reject her.

Emma smiled. "Of course, mom."

* * *

"I don't know, dear," Snow frowned slightly, watching the piece of fabric her daughter held out for her to see. They stood in the middle of a small shop, filled with all sorts of fabrics, of different colors. "I think that color makes you seem too pale."

Emma threw to a side the light blue fabric and reassumed her search for another color.

"Hmm…" Emma bit down the insides of her cheek. "Aha," she exclaimed triumphant, as she pulled out a deep red fabric, and showed it to her mother. "How about this one?"

She was certain it was the perfect color for her dress, and the queen seemed to agree on that.

Snow grinned. "Ah, you'll look lovely, darling! I can't wait to see you wearing it. I must tell Hilda to hurry with her work, we can't afford the dresses to be in too late –"

Emma cut off her mom's rambling. " _Mom._ The ball will be weeks from today."

" _Exactly_. There's no time to lose."

Emma rolled her eyes.

A few moments later, they'd walked out from the shops, their silks to be delivered to the castle by that afternoon. A couple of guards had been waiting for them just outside by the doors of the shop, watching over their horses.

"Should we go back now?" Emma turned to ask her mother.

Snow seemed thoughtful for just a moment, pursing her lips into a thin line. "Actually… I have something to do around here. Do you mind waiting for me for just a moment?"

The suggestion threw Emma aback, still, she nodded in response. "Of course."

Snow gave her a small smile, and then addressed the guards. "Come."

One of them seemed hesitant.

"Shan't I stay here and look out for the princess, your majesty?" he asked.

Snow watched Emma for a couple of seconds, as if thinking it over, and then shrugged. "I'm sure she'll do fine by herself. It'll take us just a couple minutes, surely."

And just like that, the queen gave her daughter a knowing smile – a smile that said _I trust you_ – and walked away, guards following quickly behind her.

Emma took a couple of steps around, watching her surroundings. From afar, she could see the sea and the town's port, with maybe half a dozen ships decked. She couldn't help but wonder which one of them belonged to her newfound acquaintance.

Killian. That stupid pirate seemed to always find a way back into her brain.

Being with him that night before had been… definitely more pleasing than she'd expected.

And then he'd said he would be waiting for her. Would he really?

Would he be going to that bar, night after night, hopeful to catch a glimpse of her face?

The idea made her feel a warmth rushing through her being, for just a second.

The real question, however, was – would she go to him once again? She would be lying if she said she didn't want to, but…

Was it really the right thing to do?

Just like it was meant to be; as if fate was shooting a heavenly sign at her to answer all of her lingering questions, she saw him as she'd been turning around – or at least she'd believed she saw him, caught a glimpse of that usual leather outfit and that black tousled hair of his, walking out from one of the stores not too far from her. She wasn't certain if it was him, but at the moment the resemblance had been enough to make her move from where she'd been standing and approach him.

A surprised yet pleased smile appeared on her face, as after a couple of steps, she was certain it was him. "Hook," she called, and watched him turn around quickly upon hearing the moniker, a surprised expression on his face that soon turned into a broad grin. She then added, holding back a chuckle as she teased him, "Are you following me?"

"Swan." Killian breathed out. "Trust me, love, meeting you now is a surprise. A pleasant one. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just some shopping," she answered, and _oh_ , things would be much easier if all the questions he asked were as easy to answer truthfully as that one was. "What about yourself? What were you up to?"

"None of your business, lass."

"Oh." Emma's grin fell slightly, and Killian watched her, seeming thoughtful for a moment.

After some brief silence, he spoke: "I was looking for a damsel."

They began walking side by side, without really any direction at all, at a very slow pace.

"Oh." This time her brow furrowed deeply, a feeling of disappointment suddenly running through her veins, and she very much hated it, and hated herself for feeling like that. She played it off, however, by giving him a mocking snort. "I should've known I'm not the only lass you've tried to take for yourself."

"I – um, I didn't mean it like that." He scratched the back of his ear, nervously. "There's this woman… she can give me information about the crocodile."

Emma recalled his story the previous night, about a crocodile taking his hand. Except she's now pretty certain it's not a _crocodile_ he's referring to.

"The man you're looking for…" Emma carefully began, and Killian nodded. "Any luck?"

"Unfortunately, no. The last clue I've got was that she came to the local pub not too long ago, and then… It seems like she poofed into thin air," he spoke, frustration clear in his voice.

"Who is she?" she asked curiously.

Killian hesitated. "A woman named Belle."

It took all of her willpower to keep her face as still as she could and not to stop dead in her tracks, as she felt her heart fastening, threatening to burst right out of her chest.

What were the odds? Could it really be…?

 _No –_

Commoners always loved naming their children after royalties – so just like Emma had, she was sure Belle had become quite a popular name since the princess' birth.

It couldn't be her. _Couldn't be._

Emma felt a dozen of questions about to escape her throat, but the idea of it being _her_ Belle had her growing nervous, breathing fastening and palms feeling oddly sweaty, so she decided it was best to not push the subject. She cleared her throat, "I'm sorry I can't help you… I have no idea –"

"I didn't expect you to."

Emma paused her walk, looking away from him in hopes of calming her nerves, and instead stared at the ocean. _It's not_ _ **her**_ _._ Just think of anything else –

"Which one is yours?"

She felt him stop his walk next to her and turn to watch her. "Eh?"

"The ships. Which one is yours?" Emma repeated the question. Turning her face to watch him, she saw a mischievous glint suddenly appear in his eyes.

He grabbed her arm gently, pushing her to keep on walking. "Let's go and find out," he spoke with a smirk.

Emma pulled her arm away, keeping right where she stood. She looked behind herself. Would her mother be already looking for her? "I'm not sure I should –"

"Have somewhere else to be, love?" she heard him say, and turned her face to look at him.

"In fact, I do."

"That's unfortunate," Killian began with a smirk. "I was hoping I'd now get to learn the story of why you're in such trouble with the royal guards."

"Well, I wouldn't have thought of you as the curious type," Emma teased him, avoiding the question. "Didn't you know curiosity killed the cat, captain?"

He snorted, and leaned into her, cocky grin on his face. "I'm no cat, love."

In an impulse of confidence, Emma took a small step towards him, mimicking his smirk. "Perhaps you could invite me for another drink sometime. Then, I might tell you my story, Hook."

Her heart skipped a beat as she came to notice they'd both had taken steps towards the other, leaning quite close to each other. They were so close, she could notice the little details she'd never seen before – that small scar on his right cheek, the reddish tint his stubble had under the sunlight; and damn his soul, he was truly a sight.

He seemed to be staring just as much as she was; at what exactly, she wasn't sure, but his cocky smile faltered, and so did hers. Like they'd both fallen under some sort of spell, the ambiance suddenly turning quite flirty, and then…

" _Step back!_ "

A man's voice coming closer made them jump and pull away from the other, snapping them both out of the trance; and Emma felt her stomach sinking as she saw the uniformed man approaching them: one of the guards that'd been watching over her and her mother.

Killian's eyes met hers, and she noticed a small glint of panic in his eyes that mirrored hers. For a brief second, she wondered what it was about, but quickly realized, he was concerned for _her_ , believing the guard was out to get _her_.

So, of course, a string of confused and surprised curses left the pirate's mouth as the guard unsheathed his sword in the blink of an eye, pressing it against Killian's neck.

"Was this man doing you any harm, your highness?" the guard addressed her, and both Killian and Emma responded to his words at the simultaneously:

" _No!_ "

" _Your highness?!_ "

The words coming from Killian made her cringe – just like that, her cover had been blown up. She felt Killian's eyes burying into her; however, she kept her focus on the guard. "Let him go. He was being friendly; he just showed me around."

"But – but, milady," the guard stammered. "He's a _pirate_ , milady. You were lucky he didn't harm you."

"Gee, you've heard the lass," Killian chimed in, annoyed, eyes still solely focused on the princess. "She just told you to let me go."

"Have a little more respect for the crown prin-"

"He's right," Emma spoke over the man in annoyance, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've just given you an order. Let him leave, now."

"Forgive me, then, milady," the guard gave her a court nod, putting the sword away from Killian's neck, who immediately took a small step back – muttering curses under his breath as he rubbed his neck. "The Queen is ready to head back to the castle and asked me to come look for you."

"Thank you. We'll get going now," Emma nodded at the man politely, and then turned to Killian, who stared at her in a mix of emotions – surprise and awe and perhaps slight hurt as well?

She felt the urge to explain, to let him know she hadn't wanted to lie to him, hoping he'd understand. But right then and there, she was no longer Swan – she was princess Emma, and she had to play the part. Giving a sharp look at the guard, who seemed to understand right away, as he turned his back from them, Emma faced back to Killian, and gave him a small curtsy.

"Thank you, Captain, for walking me all this way here. You are very kind," she spoke calmly, like the diplomat she was.

Killian raised a curious eyebrow at her; however, he then nodded and, just like he'd had the day they'd met, took her hand in his and placed it to his lips. "It was my pleasure, your highness," he said, and Emma could sense the small glint of irony in his voice. Then, he added in a hushed tone, mumbling against her skin. "You have a lot to explain, Swan."

"I know," she mouthed the words.

He released her hand, taking a quick step towards her. He leaned into her, making her breathing hitch, as she felt his breath on her skin. "Tomorrow at noon, by the port. I'll be waiting."

And just like that, he had turned around and walked away from the scene.

Emma watched him leave, biting down her lower lip. _Tomorrow_.

She quickly composed herself, turning her gaze away from Killian to look at the guard. She cleared her throat and spoke to him as he'd turned his face to her. "I'm ready to leave. Lead the way, sir."

The guard turned around and gave her a brief nod, before starting to walk, with Emma following closely behind him.

"I hope you're well aware you are to be discreet about this. There's no need to make my mother worry over something as trivial as this," she spoke after a couple of steps.

He remained quiet for some brief seconds. "Yes, your grace."

They continued walking in silence, and Emma's mind raced, thoughts filled with Killian and herself and all that'd just happened. _Would he be upset that she'd lied?_

Or would he be thrilled to find his newfound acquaintance happened to be a very rich princess?

Emma pushed the thoughts out of her brain as soon as she spotted her mother, waiting for her along with the other guard, and she forced a wide grin.

"Where were you off to, my love?" Snow asked kindly, locking her daughter's arm with her own.

"I got distracted looking at the sea and the ships. It's a lovely view," Emma simply stated with a shrug.

* * *

The only thing Emma truly wished for as she arrived back to the castle, along with her mother, was a long, relaxing bath. Thankfully, her handmaidens had already taken care of the task; as they'd filled her tub with bubbling, warm water.

Emma had been quick to send them away with a polite thank you, and began stripping out of her clothes as soon as the door was closed. Her dress quickly fell to the floor, and she slipped a toe into the bathtub, checking the temperature before sinking entirely into the water.

She sighed happily at the feeling of warm water against her skin, and leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a couple of moments as she allowed her muscles to relax under the heat.

 _Tomorrow at noon._

She couldn't go back now, she knew that well.

She couldn't hide her identity from him anymore. She could no longer avoid his questions, no longer she could hide behind a fake name – she was princess Emma to him now, and as the pirate he was, he would see her just as the crown that usually would rest upon her head, see her as just the riches that filled her castle.

Another treasure to loot.

It was bound to happen, of course; how long had she believed she could keep up with this? Sneaking out, pretending to be someone else –

She was nothing but a princess and he…

 _He's not somebody you should care for._

"Dumbass," Emma mumbled to herself, splashing water on her face, as if trying to make herself snap out of it. Since when did it matter so much what a stranger thought of her?

She absent-mindedly scrubbed the soap against her skin, to then let the water wash away the bubbles that have latched on to her body.

And then there was what he'd said…

Belle. He was looking for _Belle_.

She was certain he was speaking of another girl, that had to be it.

How could he be looking for her Belle?

Belle, who once had been such a dear friend for her.

Every time the brunette had visited her castle were Emma's favorite moments; Belle would often bring her favorite books for Emma to read, and they'd chat up till morning, sleeping both in Emma`s room.

She'd often find herself looking forward the next visit from Belle; which, thankfully, would often not take that long. Their parents were often meeting, however, not over a joyful matter: the Ogre's war. It'd been a dark time for their kingdoms, who had struck an alliance against the ogres.

She could easily remember the tense feeling around the kingdoms during that time – they were being defeated by the ogres yet again and again, and nearly all faith was lost until one day, it was all over; almost like all the ogres had disappeared out of thin air.

It didn't take long for Belle's father to bring in the terrible news: Belle had given herself in to the Dark One, in exchange for ending the war and assuring peace for their kingdoms.

Emma cried for days; the idea of not ever seeing her friend again pained her like nothing had before.

Things got better in time, though. She'd learned to live with the idea, understanding it'd been the right thing to do. Thankfully, despite her imprisonment, Belle was allowed to write letters to her loved ones every once in a while.

So, every month, a bird would show up at her window, bringing news from Belle and her newfound life as a maid for perhaps the darkest sorcerer ever known.

Rumplestiltskin, that was his name. Emma had never had the distaste of meeting him in person, but she'd heard the stories. Both her parents had met him a couple of times before she'd been born, struck deals with him, and both recalled the experiences to be quite displeasing.

The stories she'd heard from him had a lot of times brought nightmares into her bed in her younger years; picturing the man as some sort of evil monster. Crazy and powerful, with scaly skin and those big yellow eyes, staring right into her soul.

A beast-like man, looking almost like…

 _Like a…_

A crocodile.

The thought made her stand up quickly from the tub, not caring about the large amount of water that had just splashed down onto the floor, or the couple of bubbles that still remained unwashed from her skin. How had she not made that connection earlier?

Emma quickly moved around her room, towel wrapped around her body, as she hurried to find a simple dress to place over her figure.

So, wet hair falling over her shoulders, she rushed down the stairs of her tower, only stopping as she'd found herself inside the castle's library.

As she closed the door behind herself, she took a minute to think what it was she really needed. If there was a place to look for information in the kingdom, this would certainly be it: with hundreds of tall bookshelves, filled with thousands of books, some that dated even back to the beginnings of the castle.

Whatever she needed, she would find it in here.

The question, really, was why she was doing this?

She should put a blind eye on all this; allow the pirate to go all by himself down his path of revenge, or whatever. But there was Belle – and then there was _him_ , foolishly planning to take on the most powerful dark wizard alive by himself, and it was all something she felt she couldn't ignore.

She needed to make sense of all this mess, somehow; and the only thing she could think of at the moment was reading.

Emma's first stop was by the couple of shelves filled with books about all sorts of magic, and for perhaps an hour, she carefully examined all the titles before finally deciding to take three large books with her.

Just as she was about to walk out of the library, carrying the heavy books in her arms, she stopped as an idea quickly popped into her head, and she took one final book – _Contemporary History of the Enchanted Forest._ Emma could remember reading it a couple of times before, and she was certain that in more than a couple of occasions, the name Rumplestiltskin was mentioned among the pages.

The walk upstairs to her room was a long one, struggling as her arms were filled with big, heavy books. The books were quickly thrown into her bed as soon as she'd managed to get the door of her room opened; and the princess soon followed into the bed, getting comfortable as she sure as hell had _a lot_ to read.

The first book she'd picked to read, _Theory of the Dark Magics_ , had been a complete waste of time. Emma went quickly through the pages, finding nothing but explanations on how to cast spells and curses, perform voodoo magic and make potions. There weren't any mentions of the Dark One, or anything that could pique her interest.

She ended up closing it with a loud _thump_ , a groan leaving her mouth as it clearly wasn't what she looked for.

Just as Emma had set the book aside on the bed, and grabbed the second one, a couple of knocks on the door made her jump. Her gaze raised to the entrance of her room; and realizing how difficult it would be to explain to anyone why was it that she'd suddenly taken interest in reading about dark magics, she quickly took the rest of the books in her hands, except for the history one, and threw them under the bed.

She grabbed the remaining book and placed it on her lap, opening it at a random page, just as she exclaimed a: "Come in!"

Emma pretended to focus on the book right in front of her as she heard the doorknob turning, raising her head to find David's head had just peaked out from the door as he spoke. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Hi dad," Emma greeted him, curving her lips into a faint smile. "Did something happen?"

"No, just – we've been waiting for you downstairs," David spoke with a frown, leaning against the doorframe. "It's time for dinner."

" _Oh_ – right, right. I'm sorry, I had completely lost track of time," she replied, shaking her head as she closed the book and set it aside. "I'll be down right away."

David nodded, and Emma expected him to leave just then, but instead, he lingered. He wore a troubled expression Emma had seen a quite few times in him before; mostly whenever he'd had an argument with her.

"Has something been bothering you, Emma?"

Emma's eyebrows raised. "What?"

David took a couple of slow steps into the room, shutting the door behind him, and approached the bed. "Well, your mother and I believe you've been… behaving oddly lately," he explained, taking a seat next to her on the bed.

Of course, they did. She'd be a fool to ever think she could possibly fool her parents. They knew her like no one ever did.

"It's nothing to worry about, dad, it's just…" Emma hesitated for a moment, wondering what to say.

She would never lie to her parents, mostly because she didn't need to, and the few times she'd done it they had caught her right away. But now, she could perfectly picture David starting a witch hunt to find the darned pirate who'd made his baby girl sneak out of the castle and taken her to taverns.

 _No_ – she had enough trouble already trying to figure out what was really going on with herself and said pirate, and the last thing she needed was an overprotective David stepping right on their toes. So, knowing lying was futile, and speaking the truth was not the best of ideas, she settled for something in between.

Truth omission, she called it.

"I just… Lately, I've been hoping for…" she began, and struggled to find the words. "I wish I could see and know more than what I can see and learn in here. You and mom went through so much and I… it's silly, but I've always wished for an adventure of my own."

The words she spoke were truthful, at least – she thought back to all the stories of her parents, the epic journey they both went through only to run right back into each other, again and again.

Could she ever find that within the tall walls of a castle?

David seemed thoughtful.

"You know, you have a wild spirit, just like your mother…" he spoke after some brief moments of silence with a sigh, yet a small smile graced his features. "You were right, I am scared – scared you'll ever have to face the dangers your mom and I had to endure back in our youth. Perhaps, when you have a child of your own, you'll understand my fear." He paused. "But maybe… Maybe I should start placing a little more trust in you from now on. Allow you to take your chances."

He placed a hand on his daughter's knee. "Just promise me to be careful, will you, dear?"

The conversation had taken a turn Emma had certainly not been expecting, and glad that she wouldn't have to worry that much about her father's overprotectiveness, she grinned widely at him – placing a small kiss on the older man's cheek. "I promise, daddy," Emma grinned at him, before adding: "And thank you."

There was still the glimpse of a troubled look on David's face yet he nodded, smiling back at his daughter, and took her hand in his, helping her up from the bed. "Now come on, I'm starving."

* * *

The next morning, Emma was awoken by the Queen and her handmaidens bursting right into the room. Before she'd gotten enough time to blink away her sleep and become well-aware of what's going on around her, they'd gotten her up on her feet, and started taking measures of her body – her arms and chest and hips; all while the elderly seamstress, Hilda, wrapped pieces of red fabric around her, sticking them in place with a couple of pins.

She watched the scene unfold in a blur, absent-mindedly hearing her mother make suggestions, and every now and then hearing Hilda ask questions about how would she like the dress' length to be and any other details, to which Emma would reply kindly, though she wouldn't really put much thought into her answers.

While her body was present, a living mannequin as they prepared her dress for the ball, her mind had flown away from the moment she'd woken up.

 _I'll be waiting_.

He'd be waiting for her to meet up with him, give him some answers.

He deserved some answers, and for some odd reason, she longed to open up and speak truthfully for once to this man.

But it was stupid, too stupid to even be considering it.

She should be afraid of him, that she'd known from the beginning. She'd heard the stories, that pirates were cruel and ruthless and cared of nothing but their gold.

And now she wasn't just a mysterious, nameless girl. She was Princess Emma of Misthaven, and if that didn't cause her any trouble, then she didn't know what else would.

In moments like that, she had the childish urge to run to her mother, lay her head on the older woman's lap and let her comb her fingers through her hair, as she asked for advice.

She knew quite well, though, what Snow's piece of advice would be in most cases: _follow your heart_.

And Emma wondered if perhaps there was something wrong with her heart, because it seemed to beat faster at the idea of seeing him again.

It'd become a constant fight inside of her brain all throughout the day, of what was right and what she longed for; until she was eating lunch in the dining hall with her parents, and she could swear the grand clock by one of the walls ticked louder than it ever had before.

 _Tomorrow by noon._

So, she finished the food on her place in a way too quick pace and hopped up her seat as soon as she was done with it, words coming out of her mouth in a rush: "I'm in need of fresh air. Is it okay if I go out?"

David stared at her, baffled. "But we have practice in a couple of h-"

"I know, I know," Emma quickly interrupted him. "I'll be back in time, I promise."

Her parents shared a glance, and after a couple of seconds of suspense, David nodded in response, and that's all she could possibly need before she turned around and took long steps away from the table.

The door closed behind her with a thud that resonated around the room, and David sighed, running a hand through his greying hair.

"Is this because of a –" he began, the word 'boy' getting choked up in his throat.

"I thought I was the only one who'd noticed," Snow stated, a curious yet amused look on her face, as she watched her very distraught husband from across the table.

"Do you think we should…?"

She quickly shook her head. "You know better than to push Emma. She'll come to us once she's ready."

"Yeah – yeah," David nodded a couple of times, the frown on his face softening. "Good. I don't really think I'm ready to have that kind of talk with her."

* * *

Emma found, as she walked by the docks, it wasn't hard identifying his ship, at all.

The ship stood out from the others; large and beautiful, without a since trace of damage from all the adventures Emma could barely begin to imagine she'd gone through. _Of course_ , his ship had to be the most magnificent among the docks.

Also, she'd read enough about pirates in her books to recognize the crimson flag high up in the ship's mast, identifying her as a pirate ship.

And the captain, of course, was waiting for her just as he'd told her; Killian was leaning against the hard wood of his ship, looking out on the street, clearly looking for somebody with his gaze. As soon as his eyes locked with hers, his lips curved into a broad grin. "'Ey, love! Hop on," he called her, waving at her.

Emma bit down her lip. There she was – for once, she wasn't hiding behind any lies or fake names, and she wished she could say her only concern was that she was a princess, and meeting up with a pirate could easily be the same as walking into a wolf's mouth.

No, that's not just it. What really made her hesitate, was a burning question that seemed wouldn't leave her alone since the previous day:

Would he find her just as interesting as he'd had before, now he knew who she truly was?

"Come on, Swan. I thought you wanted to see my ship," Killian called her again, as he watched her hesitating.

And in the end, Emma decided to place some trust in him, and more importantly place some trust in herself, and headed towards the ship.

Emma looked around the ship as soon as she set a foot on deck; it was awfully quiet, with only the sounds of the sea to be heard. She turned her face to Killian, raising her eyebrows as she noticed it was only the two of them on deck. "No crew?"

"They usually try to make most of their time on land – spending all of our loots in women and rum."

Emma nodded and took a couple of steps around, hands locked behind her back, admiring the fine details on the ship. "You have quite a lovely ship, captain," she complimented after a few moments.

"She's the Jolly Roger, love," Killian told her. "Fastest in all the realms."

"Jolly Roger, huh," Emma repeated with a nod, chuckling softly. There was something oddly familiar about the ship, something she was quick to identify, and she added: "She looks like… like a royal vessel."

"Used to be," Killian reaffirmed her suspicions, and then explained: "I was a Lieutenant back then. My brother was the Captain."

This new piece of information about the pirate had her halting, focusing her entire attention on him. She'd never put much thought in wondering about the pirate's beginnings – for some reason, she'd just pictured him having been born into the pirate life.

She tried to picture in her brain a younger version of him, all uniformed as he sailed under his brother's command, serving his kingdom; and she had to fight against the smile that threatened to break through her lips. Who would've thought, Captain Hook had once been a man of honor.

She wondered then, what could've possibly turned him into this darker version of himself.

"How'd you turn into a pirate then?" Emma inquired.

"King was a corrupt man. I went rogue, renamed the ship and began my life as a free man," he stated simply, and Emma watched him curiously, stopping her walk next to him.

"And your brother?"

"Dead."

Emma flinched slightly at the word, regretting having made the question as soon as the answer reached her ears. "I'm sorry…"

Killian shrugged it off, giving her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It was a long time ago, princess."

She didn't even consider pushing him on with the subject; and sighed deeply at the way he had addressed her. _Right_ , she was a princess now – one who owed him an explanation.

"I'm sorry I lied about who I am."

"You had me fooled, Swan," he chuckled, shaking his head in an incredulous manner. He even seemed disappointed – not at her, but more at himself. "I knew you were no ordinary lass – _but a princess!_ Huh, I should've known..."

"And you're a pirate!" Emma exclaimed, folding her hands over her chest. "It would've been madness telling you who I was."

"Most would say you, a princess, coming here, to meet with a dreadsome pirate, is madness," Killian raised an eyebrow at her, taking a slow step closer to her.

"You don't scare me." Because truly there wasn't a reason to be scared, now, was it?

 _No_ – she could see it in his eyes; those pale blues that seemed to glow brighter as he watched her.

She could easily have a million reasons not to trust him – mainly, the circumstances in which they'd met had proven this wasn't a man afraid to steal or harm people to get what he wanted. But she'd constantly found herself catching glimpses of the man behind that dreadsome pirate façade, and she felt it deep within her that he wouldn't dare to harm her.

He chuckled lowly. "Now, don't get too comfortable around me already, love. I do love my treasures."

Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart raced in her chest, and she wasn't sure if it's because of his low, dangerous tone or the sudden proximity of his body to hers.

She snorted. "I'm not yours to take, Hook."

"That makes no difference to me, though. I always take what I want," he leaned towards her, and she caught a glint of mischief and playfulness as their eyes meet.

Emma's lips curved slightly, and she did her best to play it cool despite how it seemed like she struggled to breathe properly having him so close to her. "Do you really? May I remind you, I've already bested you once?"

Killian's smirk turned into a full-on smile – and she was surprised to find it made her heart skip a beat, making her feel suddenly flustered. _Curse his stupid good-looks._

She turned her face away from him, suddenly feeling desperate to focus on anything that wasn't _him._

The sea is the next best option she could find.

He seemed to notice her sudden interest in the sea since, after a couple of moments in silence, he asked: "You ever sailed before?"

"Once," Emma answered. "I was a child, though, I can barely remember. My parents and I went to a wedding back in Arendelle."

"That's it?" Killian raised an eyebrow, looking surprised, and it made Emma chuckle softly.

"Aye, captain," she said, doing her best to imitate his accent. "Might be surprising for a free man like you, but this kingdom is where I'm meant to be."

"I don't really believe that."

"And why's that?" She rolled her eyes at him.

"I have a feeling you're looking for more than that," Killian answered matter-of-factly. "A taste of freedom, perhaps?"

Emma's mouth opened, as once more the pirate appeared to see right through her, and she felt a sudden impulse to lie, tell him he was wrong.

Before she could though, he chuckled, reading her expression. "Open book, love."

"Right," she grunted, looking away from him.

"So, princess, I was hoping –"

"Emma," she interrupted him. "It's Emma."

Killian smiled, triumphant as she'd finally admitted her name to him. "Emma," he repeated it, and it sounded delicious in that thick accent of his. "I was hoping you hadn't changed your mind about that drink you asked for yesterday."

As she turned to watch him, she found there wasn't that typical cocky and flirty expression of his plastered all over his features. There was a smile on his face, a truthful one; and perhaps, if she looked a little bit deeper into his expression, perhaps there was something that resembled nervousness.

But that was silly, of course – this was Killian Jones, perhaps the most confident man she'd ever stumbled upon, and she doubted _anything_ could ever make him nervous, _much less herself_.

Emma chuckled. "I haven't."

"Good," he said with a nod, and added, scratching behind his ear: "Will tomorrow do?"

Emma suppressed the smile that tried to break through, already knowing too well what her answer would be.


	5. Her

**Chapter Five: Her.**

Emma knew this was possibly a very bad idea.

It wasn't any news by now, of course — if you could trust Emma's heart with anything, it'd be with making terribly poor decisions.

There's a pang of fear shooting through her stomach as Emma led Autumn out of the stables, wondering what might just happen if anyone came to pay her a visit in her chambers that evening; expecting to find her on her bed, fast asleep or maybe reading a book, only to find...

No, they wouldn't be finding _anything_. That was why she'd taken so long in leaving; pretending to go up to her room after dinner, only to silently make her way out of the castle a few moments later. If things played out the way she hoped them to, her parents would have no reason to check out on her that night — and they'd be fast asleep in their chambers by the time she returned.

Emma rode through the castle's grounds, slowing down the pace and halting as she arrived at the gate. A single man stood right in front of the large gate doors, dressed in her kingdom's colors.

The man remained firm, apparently unfazed by her presence.

"Good evening," she softly said.

"Your highness," he greeted back, and despite she couldn't see his face through the helmet, she sensed surprise and curiosity in his voice.

She was almost certain by the sound of his voice that this was the same guard from a couple of nights ago; something she wasn't too thrilled about. He'd already caught her sneaking back into the castle, and the last thing she needed now was for him to catch her sneaking _out_.

She played it cool, though. "Might you open the gate doors for me, now?"

She could perfectly picture him squinting his eyes under his helmet at her; eyeing her suspiciously, wondering what she might be up to.

"I don't believe it's a good—" he began, careful yet firm, and Emma couldn't help but groan in exasperation.

"It doesn't matter what you believe," she quickly cut him off, a bit harsher than she'd intended. She was already running late and this — this wasn't something she needed right now. However, she immediately felt bad about it, and added carefully, "I'm sorry. I just need to be somewhere else."

He hesitated for a moment. "The king and queen will not be pleased, my princess."

"Well, I'm not telling the king and queen – _will you?_ " Emma raised an eyebrow at him, slight playful smile on her face.

The guard shifted nervously. "If you don't wish me to, then I won't."

"Good."

He seemed to watch her, in yet another moment of hesitation, before moving around to open the gates.

"Will you be returning?" he wondered out loud, pushing one of the large doors open for her to pass.

The question threw her aback.

"What?"

"Forgive me if I'm being intrusive," he quickly chimed in, turning his head to watch her before moving on to the other door.

Emma shook her head.

"I'm not running away if that's what you believe."

"Right, I — um," he sounded nervous. "It's just —"

"Me sneaking out of the castle all by myself at night, and asking you to keep quiet about it is a bit sketchy?" Emma guessed, a slightly amused smile on her face.

"A little," he chuckled under his breath. "I was terrified for a moment there — two months in, and I already end up being the one guard who allowed the royal princess to run off from her home."

Emma raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You've just started as a guard?"

He nodded. "Youngest member as well," he explained with a shrug. "So, you see why I might need to be a bit more careful, your highness."

"This'll be our little secret, then," Emma reassured him with a kind smile, and nodded at him as both doors were open, leaving the path clear. "Thank you."

However, the young man stayed on the bridge, still doubtful.

"Do you wish for me to accompany you, at least?"

"Aren't you supposed to be guarding the gates?" Emma questioned back at him.

"I am, milady — but making sure you're safe is more important than my assigned duties," he quickly responded.

"There's no need. You can stay here," she told him and, noticing he was about to reply back, she quickly added, in a stern voice: "It's an order."

Emma heard him sigh in defeat, before stepping aside; allowing her to move forward. A slight smile showed on her face; because while she'd probably wasted a bit more time than she should've, she'd thought the small chat with the guard had actually been nice. He…

A realization made her halt, and her horse had only taken a few slow steps into the bridge before she'd stopped, turning around slightly to address the guard.

"Forgive me, sir, but I do not know your name."

The guard seemed to freeze in his place, watching her incredulously. He cleared his throat.

"I didn't expect you to, your highness."

"Well?" she urged him on after a couple seconds of silence.

"I — um — _Tom_ ," he stammered, shifting nervously once more. "It's Thomas, my princess."

A grin appeared on her face. "Pleasure meeting you, Tom. And thank you."

* * *

Even though they'd agreed to meet up by dusk, stars filled the night-sky by the time Emma reached the pub. She was late — obnoxiously late, and she was very aware of the possibility the person she'd be meeting could've already left, tired of waiting for her. She deeply hoped that wasn't the case.

She knew exactly where to look as she made her way into the pub, eyes heading right away to the corner where they'd sat a couple of nights before. And she didn't need to look anywhere else, a breath she didn't know she'd been holding escaped her lips as she caught a glimpse of the leather-wearing pirate.

"Hook," Emma called, as she walked towards the table, wondering how long he had been sitting there. A couple of glasses were set on the wooden surface, along with a bottle of rum – which, she had to repress an amused grin as she noticed, was already half empty. _What was it with pirates and drinking?_

She guessed he'd be annoyed by her impunctuality; yet she found herself surprised as Killian's eyes shot up to meet hers, a mix of thrill and relief in his eyes. He showed her a full-on grin as soon he saw her, and she couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Ah, finally," Killian spoke with a sigh, watching her as she sat in the seat across from him. "I was starting to believe I'd been royally stood up — pun intended."

Emma shot him a serious look, rolling her eyes at the comment.

"I'm sorry about that," she responded, giving him an apologetic smile. "I tried to be here as soon as I could."

"What took you so long, lass?" he inquired, curiously.

Emma let out a sigh, leaning back into her seat. "I had to be sure my parents wouldn't notice my absence. It took a bit longer than I'd anticipated."

"So, the king and queen don't know you're meeting me here, huh?" Killian asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "I didn't take you for the rebellious type, Swan."

"Yeah, well, I don't think they'd be pleased to find that their sole daughter is out to meet with a pirate," she responded, getting a chuckle from Killian in response. She then added, "I'm sure if they learn I'm out here drinking with you, they'll forbid me from ever leaving the castle again on my own."

"A tad overprotective, aye?" he asked.

"No – _no_ ," Emma was quick to say; however, she cut herself off, watching as he raised an eyebrow at her, making it clear he could see right through her. "I mean, yeah. A bit. They're just scared."

"That someone like me will harm you?" he teasingly wiggled his eyebrows at her, and Emma shook her head.

"It's far more complicated than that."

"Ooh, do tell, love," Killian spoke, leaning against the table like the conversation had taken a sudden, interesting turn. "I've been dying to learn about you."

She didn't really understand why. It baffled her, why the captain had taken such an interest in her — watched her like she was an unresolved mystery, despite him always claiming she was _sort of an open book_.

"I haven't even had my first sip, and you already want me to start 'fessing up to you?" Emma said with a snort.

Killian let out a chuckle and wasted no time in placing a cup in front of her. "Well, go ahead," he dared her. "Nobody's stopping you."

Her fingers wrapped around the small glass, and she carried it up to her lips. She allowed a large sip of the drink to pour down her throat and wrinkled her face slightly at the taste. It wasn't as bad as the first time, but still, it was far from being her favorite drink.

Leaving the glass down on the table, Emma hesitated for a second, pondering on whether she should answer his questions. Despite her feeling like she could actually trust him with some information about herself, she doubted he could possibly understand — he was a pirate, after all, living the life of a free man, doing whatever he pleased whenever he pleased.

Overprotective parents wouldn't ever be something Captain Hook could relate to.

Still, perhaps she could use just a moment of venting out.

"Things around here were pretty awful, back when my parents just married," she slowly began her story, leaning her arms on the wooden table. "It was a constant war between my parents and my mom's stepmother, Regina — the evil queen. She had this sort of… personal vendetta against my mother, because of some secret she spilled back when she was just a child. So, she threatened to destroy my parents' happy ending, even if it were the last thing she did.

Killian watched her intently as she narrated the tale, and she sighed.

"Nobody really knows what was it that she planned. From what I've heard, something truly terrible. My parents stopped her before she did anything — but just before they could imprison her, she just _vanished_ ," she continued on explaining. "Poofed herself out of existence, apparently; as not one soul has ever seen her first. Some say she's lost her power. Some say she just gave up on her vengeance altogether. What matters is, we've been at peace for over eighteen years. And still, my parents…"

"Aren't too sure about that," Killian concluded, and Emma nodded in response.

"They think it's sketchy. They believe she's still out there, making plans to fulfill her revenge — and she's just waiting for the right moment to strike."

"And what do _you_ believe?" He watched her curiously.

Emma hesitated for a moment. "I… I think she's been away for nearly two decades. Maybe she's moved on — maybe we should too."

Killian seemed thoughtful, and Emma saw something dark briefly flash through his eyes. "I wouldn't believe she's moved on, lass. Twenty years of waiting are nothing to a vengeance-filled heart."

The fact that she could easily guess he was speaking from experience made her look away for a moment, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Right — she'd forgotten he was too part of the vengeful, bitter, maybe soon-to-be homicidal crew.

Emma cleared her throat. " _Point is_ , my parents believe she will stick to her former promise of taking away their happy ending. And, according to them, _I'm_ a great part of their happy ending. Meaning, she possibly has me as her target," she pursed her lips together. "So, they prefer me being all locked up in my castle. Going out to the real world — alone, might be too dangerous for me."

She shrugged, trying to not to make such a big deal about it; not show how much it truly bothered her.

"Well, I wouldn't worry that much if I were them, lass," Killian reassured her, and Emma's eyes shifted to find him grinning at her, before taking a large sip of rum. "You might as well be the toughest princess I've ever met."

For some reason, it outdid any compliment she could've ever gotten from any of the princes that courted her, and she looked down for a moment to try to hide the smile that fought to break through her lips.

"Oh, so you've met many princesses before?" Emma tried to shift the conversation quickly, asking in a teasing manner, with an eyebrow raised at him.

"Why, of course. Plenty of them, lass—"

* * *

"—so, my dad barges in, finding me and my lady-in-waiting — who, by the way, is trying to clean up vomit off of my nearly passed out body—" Her story is interrupted by a fit of giggles. "and he just looks at us with a dead serious face _and then_ —"

A laugh shakes through her body.

"—she just stands up, shaking from head to toe, and says: No need to worry, your highness — she just had a bad shrimp."

Both of them burst into laughter as Emma finally finished her story; of that one occasion when she snuck a bottle of wine into her chambers.

Emma was sure she'd never heard Killian laugh so wholeheartedly, arm clenched over his stomach. It's a sound she definitely doesn't want to ever forget, glorious and filled with joy.

If there's always an obnoxiously loud table at the pub, tonight that's them — apparently unable to contain their loud laughs, tears falling freely from their eyes. She had lost count for how long had they been there, laughing and sharing stories and drinking — which, she had also forgotten how many drinks she'd had that night.

"That's — that's bloody hilarious, Swan," Killian said between laughs, holding out his glass to her. "Cheers to that."

Emma clashed her cup against his, a little harder than she intended to, a few drops of liquor spilling into the table and making her giggle. While Emma's movements had started turning slow and sloppy since the last couple shots, Killian seemed to be having a way easier time holding his rum. She hesitated for a moment, lips pressed against the cold glass as she watched him chug down his drink, place it back down on the table with a soft _thud_. If his apparent calm behavior didn't give him away, it was the sparkle in his eyes that showed he was a bit more drunk than he appeared, as he grinned widely at her like he might as well be having the best time of his life.

She might as well be having the best time of her life, too.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Hook?" Emma teased, lips curving slightly upwards against the cup, before throwing her head back and allowing the liquid to burn down her throat.

She heard Killian laugh softly.

"Do you think so poorly of me?"

"Pirate," she stated with a shrug, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste that remained on her mouth.

"Aye, fair point there, lass," Killian grinned. "That'd be my usual tactic, yes, but I've decided against it with you."

Emma raised an eyebrow at his statement, and chuckled, "Why would you?"

"That's no way to treat a princess, love — and I'm sure you'd hardly ever fall for it," Killian shrugged, a slight smirk appearing on his features. "You're too young for me, anyway."

That last comment threw Emma aback, sending her into a fit of giggles; and despite her sensing playfulness in his voice, she still raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Oh, I'm too young for you now, huh?" she inquired. Truth was, she'd never put much thought on his age. He was older than her, that was sure. He had the face of a fully-matured man, yet he still looked _young_. "How old even are you?"

A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

Emma eyed him carefully for a few moments, and then blindly guessed:

"Twenty… _eight?_ "

Killian chuckled. "A bit past two hundred, love."

The statement made her laugh out loud.

"So, fearsome Captain Hook tells jokes now?" Emma replied, as she placed her glass on the table and pushed it towards him. "I think, though, you might have to pour a shot or two more for me to actually fall for that."

Killian watched her with amusement, taking her glass to pour more liquor in.

"It's no joke, love," he simply stated, handing her back the cup. "I know it's hard to believe — I've aged quite nicely, as you see."

Emma squinted slightly; trying to get a good look at his expression despite the blurriness of her sight due to the alcohol. And while she wasn't sure of how trustworthy her lie-detecting abilities were while under the influence of alcohol, she wasn't able to detect any trace of a lie in his face.

"You're… serious?" she hesitated.

"Dead serious."

Her mouth opened in surprise for a couple of seconds, unsure of what to say as she tried to process this new information about the pirate.

"But that's impossible," she stammered. _"How_ —"

Killian seemed pleased with the reaction he'd provoked, leaning back into his seat with a smirk on his face; watching her clearly not able to make sense of what he'd just told her.

"I was trapped in a land where time never passes," Killian explained with a shrug, as if it were no big deal. "All the time I remained in that island, I did not age a single day."

"Wait, I—" Emma shook her head. "Let me get this straight: you're a… _centuries-old_ pirate despite the fact that one, that's not possible, and two, you look at most like you're in your late twenties — and all of that because you lived in a land where time is frozen?"

She let out a deep breath and watched as Killian threw his head back laughing.

"I couldn't have summed it up better myself, princess," he said between chuckles.

His age had never been a question for her. Killian was certainly older, yet she'd guessed ten years or so at most — not _two hundred_. Certainly, that small piece of information seemed to be bringing her a headache; learning of the existence of realms frozen in time, along with the quite a few shots of rums she'd been having that evening had that effect on her.

She was sure she'd end up emptying the contents of her stomach if she had any more drinks.

"You have it," she pushed the still liquor-filled glass back to him with a sigh and looked at him with a mix of surprise and awe. "How'd you ever get to that land?"

Killian looked at her with amusement, accepting the drink and taking it all down in one quick sip.

"First time I ever got there I was just a young lad; still a lieutenant sailing under my brother's command. My brother and myself were sent on a mission to retrieve a plant from an unknown land. That land being Neverland, of course," he explained.

Emma's eyebrows raised at the mention of his brother and his early life as a lieutenant; for some reason, the idea of learning about the pirate's background was thrilling to her. Like getting a small piece of a puzzle she was determined to solve.

However, her focus on the tale shifted briefly as he mentioned the name of the land, and she snorted. "Silly name, isn't it?"

Killian rolled his eyes. "You can't expect bloody children to have exceptional naming skills, lass."

"Children?" Emma repeated with curiosity.

"Aye. The Lost Boys; some of the very few inhabitants of the Island, along with Pan, their leader. Dreadful little brats, all of them. Best to never encounter them."

He spoke as if they might as well be the worst beings he'd ever had the displeasure of knowing, disgusted look clear on his face. It had Emma holding back a laugh, at the idea of the pirate dealing with a gang of little kids.

"Some kids can be obnoxious, but I don't think it can be _that_ bad—"

"They aren't obnoxious, Swan — they're _evil_ ," Killian responded with annoyance.

He continued to explain to her about his adventures back in Neverland; the constant encounters with the Lost Boys and Peter Pan, the worst of them all according to Killian (' _That bloody demon,_ ' he had whispered through gritted teeth), the bloodthirsty mermaids, and even all the harmless-looking plants and fruits that turned out deadly.

Emma's father had always told her that magic always came with a price, and perhaps the price that came with the island's magic were the unceasing dangers that came along with living there. A life of eternal youth, yes; but what was it worth when every corner of the land seemed to be a death trap?

"Gee, sounds like you don't have many fond memories of that place," Emma said.

"I don't." He scowled.

"Then why stay there for so long?"

"Told you, I was trapped," Killian explained. "After that first adventure on Neverland, I used a magic bean to get there a second time — on that occasion, it was to buy myself some time. Turns out, leaving wasn't as easy as I hoped, and I ended up having to spend a lot more time there than I'd originally planned."

With every word that came out of Killian's mouth, more questions popped right into her brain. He could easily be the most intriguing person she'd ever met, having lived and seen so much more than she ever had. And with every new tale he spoke of, she became more and more intrigued by him.

"Why would you need to buy yourself some time?" Emma wondered, leaning into the table, resting her head on the palm of her hand.

"I needed to make plans," he simply stated, and she raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, urging him to elaborate. He hesitantly added, "To kill the crocodile."

"Rumplestiltskin." The name pops into her brain and out of her mouth before she could even notice it, and she watched as Killian's expression shifted to one of surprise.

" _I never told you—!_ " he began, looking at her wide-eyed.

"I'm not the farm girl you thought I was, remember?" Emma was quick to cut him off and try to explain herself, before he jumped into any other conclusions. For some reason, she preferred to keep the fact that she knew way more than he believed her to, to remain a secret. The last thing she wanted was for her to spend the rest of the night answering his questions, about the fact that she knew the girl he'd been looking for all along. So instead, she shrugged it off, like it wasn't of importance. "My family is no stranger to the Dark One. I simply joined the dots."

Killian seemed thoughtful for a moment; yet whatever he pondered on, he did not voice it out loud. He seemed suspicious, like he didn't really quite buy her answer; yet after a moment he continued on talking, absent-mindedly rubbing his stubble.

"Aye… Anyways, I'm mortal, he's not. That's a problem, clearly, if I'm to kill him. I needed a plan — a good one. So, I bought myself more time, in Neverland."

The thought came into her mind that he had spent hundreds of years in a dangerous island he despised, only to figure out a way to kill the man he hated.

Killian was one hell of a determined man, that was for sure.

"Why do you want to kill him so badly?" she inquired, and noticed how his eyes darkened slightly.

"He took my reason to live, so… I'll take his life instead."

Emma was taken aback by that answer, the raw and honest anger behind those words. Until now, she'd believed the captain's ire over the Dark One came purely out of the fact he'd been the one responsible for his missing limb. That answer told her there was certainly _no way_ it was just about that.

"And…" she began slowly, the fact that she knew quite well this was a touchy subject making her hesitant. "…you're not speaking about your hand, are you now?"

She had a feeling, intuition you might call it; and while it would possibly be stepping way out of the line, she still gathered the courage to voice it out loud: "Was it someone you cared for?"

"You're a clever princess, aren't you?"

There was a hint of slight irony and bitterness in his voice, something that told her perhaps she should know better than to push things further, urge him on to continue speaking about the matter.

But she had to, didn't she? She had to know — had to understand. There had to be more to him, more than just a missing limb and a plan of revenge.

Killian could easily be the most complex person she'd met so far; a cold-hearted, vengeance-driven pirate who yet could seem so warm at times.

She'd seen it in glimpses; the gleam in his eyes she'd catch whenever she bested him, or the rare, truthful smiles he'd once or twice offered her. It was in those brief moments where she believed she could actually _see_ him — the man behind the pirate, the man she was starting to believe wouldn't do anything to harm her.

But they were just glimpses, quickly shadowed by a smirk and a cocky remark that'd remind her who she was really dealing with. And as quick as she'd thought she had begun to catch a glimpse of Killian Jones, she was back off to where she'd started.

Yet, for some reason, she was determined to figure him out.

"Can you tell me?"

Killian watched her for a couple of moments; face as still as it could be, yet Emma noticed the darkening in those blue eyes of his, the conflict behind them. The fun, easy-going feeling she'd been loving from that evening had slipped away, and Emma wondered if this was a question she'd end up regretting to have asked.

Maybe she'd regret it. Maybe the answer would be far worse than she could picture it to be; a tale so filled with hate it would once and for all prove her wrong about him. It would be easier that way; accept she had no reason to keep on by his side, searching for whatever light she'd believed had seen within him.

It would be just what she needed to will herself away from him.

"There was, um…" he began hesitantly, like he was unsure of how to start. "There was this woman…"

The answer she got was indeed far worse than what she'd pictured. It wasn't a tale of vengeance; it was a _love story_.

And that was worse; oh, _so_ much worse.

From the moment he'd begun telling his story, Emma found herself under a spell; unable to do anything but silently listen to him, frozen in her seat as she swallowed every detail of his tale.

Maybe it was that Killian happened to have an unknown natural talent for storytelling. Or maybe it had nothing to do with talent, but with the fact that everyone on this world is good at speaking about the things they love — and by the end of that evening, Emma was certain about one truth: that Killian Jones had madly loved the woman of his tale.

It's hard for Emma to picture what that all had been like, having never really been in love herself. It's just like with her parents — the deep, mad love story she wished so profoundly to understand, to live for herself. And while she had no idea what that was really like, she still felt her heart pumping and racing along with the story — maybe it was his voice that caused that effect, or the way he spoke oh-so-passionately about _her_.

Emma had no trouble picturing her in her head: beautiful, tall woman with long hair tousled by the wind. A girl, much like herself, with hopes and dreams to see the world. A girl who married too young, had a child too early.

A girl who wanted a life that didn't belong to her. A life of excitement and adventures, a life away from the ordinary. One filled with love, true and wild.

And Emma understood. Wasn't that exactly what she wanted for herself? Could she ever blame that woman's choice of changing her life?

She'd lie if the idea of a life without her royal obligations didn't get her heart racing. She'd lie if the idea of a life of adventures; of the sea and _him_ , didn't get her breath caught up in her throat.

There she was now. In a bar, sitting across the table from him — just like Milah had hundreds of years ago. Emma could perfectly imagine him mouthing the same words he'd probably said to her back then: _come with me_.

Would she really be able to resist, if he only spoke those words to her, right then and there?

Milah hadn't resisted, of course.

Emma pictured her, with her skin tanned by the sun and smelling of the sea. A pirate girl, in love with a pirate boy.

And then she pictured it all gone; the hopes and dreams and plans. All gone way too soon, as her heart turned into dust in the Dark One's hands.

Killian paused for another drink, straight from the bottle, as he came to the story's darkest point; eyes adverting from hers as he finished his tale.

They were buried on his clenched fist upon the table, like the rings of his hand had suddenly become the only things he was interested in that evening. Maybe he feared that as soon as he locked eyes with her, she'd see right into his soul; notice the hurt and anger buried within him.

But she had already seen.

The table had fallen into silence as soon as Killian finished speaking, and for a few moments, Emma had no idea of what to say in response. She was too preoccupied watching his face, wondering what thoughts laid behind his vacant gaze and slight frown.

Would he regret telling her? Allowing that vulnerable side of him be known?

Emma didn't regret asking. She now knew something she would've never imagined before, something that made her see him in a whole different light.

He wasn't just a pirate. He was Killian Jones; the man who once had a brother, who once had perhaps a true love. Who had lost them both to bitter death.

And while Killian often would brag about her being nothing but an open book, in that moment, Emma was the one seeing right through him – reading him just as easy as if he were one of the books stacked up in her room.

 _He was heartbroken._ And he was lonely.

A feeling of sadness came over her as she came to that realization, and in a desperate attempt to make things better — to try to do the impossible and fix the broken man that sat across from her, she reached out her hand and placed it over his clenched fist. She gently squeezed it, a silent message that at least that night, _she was there with him_.

"I — That's — I wish I knew what to say." Emma struggled with her words, silently wanting to smack herself for it.

She noticed brief surprise upon his features at her touch, and his eyes remained buried on his hand — and now hers, frown upon his face as if he tried to make sense of the unexpected gesture of comfort.

"Told you it wasn't a fun tale, love," Killian shook his head slightly. "I don't think I've ever shared it like this before."

A faint smile grazed upon her lips. "Thank you."

"What for, love?"

"For sharing it with me," she explained. "It means a lot to me."

A brief silence surrounded them once more, as Killian seemed to be more preoccupied with their joined hands, and Emma briefly followed down his gaze, watching the slow movements of his thumb across her hand. And while the touch had originally been meant to comfort him, Emma found herself relaxing under the gentle caress of his fingers on her skin. Out of instinct, she shifted her hand slightly; her fingers finding their own way to lace themselves up with his.

"Killian, I'm—" she'd begun, watching his eyes finally rush up to hers, a mix of surprise and something else in them, something warm. Yet, just as if you'd blown out a candle, that warmth faded within seconds; replaced by uncertainty and –

Regret.

Just as the vulnerability disappeared from his face, he pulled his hand away from the table; the movement so harsh and sudden it made her jump back, leaving her to just stare at him, confusion and disappointment upon her features as the pirate stood from his seat, blinking a couple of times before flashing her that usual smirk of his.

"While it's been one hell of an evening, Swan, I fear it might be time now to head out," Killian smoothly said, acting like the previous conversation had never happened — like he'd been just speaking about the weather, instead of baring himself to her for the first time. "Do you wish for me to accompany you out?"

Emma blinked up at him for a couple of seconds, unsure of what had just happened. They'd been having a moment there, she'd felt it. It was just them, no cocky-acts or play-pretends in between them. He'd been closer, more real to her than ever before, and then…

A sudden wave of anger seemed to rush throughout her; perhaps at the sudden rejection of her touch, or at the fact he'd been so quick to push her out, to retreat back into his confident persona, just when she'd just begun to see him as he truly is.

Emma quickly mimicked his movements, standing up from her seat so harshly she barely knocked down the chair.

"No need. I believe I can find my way out all by myself, thank you," she responded, a tinge of bitterness lying beneath her voice. A part of her secretly hoped he'd do something, say anything that would give her an excuse to stay just a moment longer; but she watched as Killian simply nodded in response, making her inhale deeply and clench her jaw slightly. "Have a good night, Hook."

"'Night, Swan."

Emma desperately fought the urge to look back at him as she, in hurried steps, made her way out of the bar. She had a feeling if at any point she took a final glance at him, their gaze would most certainly meet — and she couldn't bear in that moment to stare into those icy blue eyes.

* * *

 **A/N: Wow... It's been a really long time, hasn't it? I'm really sorry, guys, but don't worry - this story is going stronger than ever. Place your trust in me when I say at the very least all of part I of this story (about 8 more chapters) is going to be published in these coming couple of months.**

 **With all that said, I'd love to hear your feedback, and see you next week!**


	6. Teaming Up

**Chapter Six: Teaming Up.**

"Rise and shine!"

It's her mother's cheerful chime that pulled her out of her sleep, adding up to the headache that threatened to ruin her morning already.

A slight complaint left Emma's lips as she rolled around slightly, burying her face into the pillow. She'd meant to say something along the lines of _five more minutes_ , but it'd turned out as nothing but a groggy, mumbling nonsense.

"Emma, you've slept enough—"

" _Mom,_ " Emma moaned against the pillow, desperately trying to ignore the sounds of her mom rushing up and down her room.

"Come on — come on, up we go." She heard Snow's command as she felt soft hands locking with her own, pulling her up from the bed. "No time to waste."

It felt like her day went by just the same — with her mother pulling and dragging her all around the castle, and her trying to fight one hell of a headache.

The hours of her day rush by; sending the final invitations for her ball and making lists of the plates and desserts she wished to have served that night, and the musical pieces she wished to be played and danced to that evening.

Snow, as usual, was the one taking the reins of everything that had to do with the upcoming ball. It constantly brought a smile to Emma's face, watching the queen babble on about how lovely the evening would be, and how they had to make sure everything turned out just about perfect. It was good seeing her mother so excited about something — it made it worth it.

The excitement Emma lacked, Snow made up for it; which was actually perfect.

The ball, after all, wasn't anywhere near being at the top of her concerns. Yet still, it was all she had time to think of that day; at least until late in the evening, with her occupations for the day finished and the sun already down.

It's only a bubble bath later, when she finally had some time to close her eyes and rest her head against the mattress, that her thoughts drifted off someplace else.

Of course, they headed right away to the previous night.

The drinking and the joking around, and _him_. The things he'd spoken of.

It'd been a nice evening. One of the most fun she'd ever had, certainly — even despite the circumstances in which it ended.

With him shutting her out, and her storming out of the pub in annoyance.

And yet still, she was already pondering on the idea of when to meet up with him again. She wanted to see him, talk to him; try to dig into him a bit deeper, understand a bit better. He had somehow become her very own piece of research, and she wasn't going to back away until she placed all the pieces together.

Maybe she could sneak out to the town tomorrow, if only she managed to break free from her mother's schedule.

Geez, in what moment had her life become a constant wait, of her looking forward to the next time she left the castle's walls to meet him?

Emma's hands rubbed over her face to snap herself out of it; and she shifted from the bed, leaning over the edge and reaching out her arms to grab the couple of books she'd hidden under the bed nights ago.

She hoped it would help her clear her mind.

Emma laid on her stomach as she opened the first book, _Contemporary History of the Enchanted Forest,_ and began flicking through the pages.

It wasn't the first time she'd ever read it, which made it easier to go through it; skipping through the parts she was sure had nothing to do with what she was looking for.

The name Rumplestiltskin, however, was written over the pages about a thousand times. A chill ran down her spine at the realization that the dark sorcerer was nearly about _everywhere_ , a dark puppeteer pulling the strings on all of the known stories of the land.

She didn't need to reach the end of the book to come to the conclusion she wouldn't find anything more than what she already knew — he was a twisted, powerful man, and definitely not a person Emma would ever want to cross paths with.

Not that she even had the chance of reaching the end of it, as she found herself waking up the next morning with a sore cheek, having found sleep right over the pages of the thick book.

Her reading only continued on many hours later, once again under the candlelights of her room, after yet another long day of never-ending preparations.

She'd been absent-mindedly going through what appeared to be yet another useless book, face rested on the palm of her hand as she fought against exhaustion.

The book was _Tales of Most Ancient Magics_ , and Emma found it filled with illustrations and in-depth descriptions of magical items and powers, that supposedly dated back to the beginnings of _time itself_ , according to the book.

Emma quickly ran through the pages, not caring much about the tales of fairies and plants and cursed items that filled about the first half of the book; and she was about to call it a day when two words made her jump in her place — snapping her out of any exhaustion she might be feeling.

Dark One.

Her fingers traced over the large illustration of a dagger, that covered an entire page of the book, and then she started reading:

 _The infamous dark one's curse, perhaps the most coveted yet at the same time feared magic of all. There is no known information about its beginnings, though it is believed darkness itself was born out of this curse, to then be spread all throughout the world._

 _While the powers the curse bring to its bearer would be envied by most, unmeasurable knowledge in all types of dark magic and immortality, the curse can prove to be like a disease, spreading around and eating away all the light from the person at a considerable speed. The dark one's powers are often used for misdeeds as the person becomes filled with darkness, and even maddened with power._

 _The dark one's life is eternal, as it becomes tethered to their dagger, and it's only by the hand of their dagger that a dark one may die. In that case, the person to commit the murder shall have the powers transferred to them; hence, making them the next dark one._

 _However, it is rumored that even compared to the dark one's powers, true love still comes out a winner as the most powerful magic of all. That being the case, it's a possibility that a true love's kiss might be an alternative cure for the curse. Still, many argue against this theory, as there has actually been no dated case of a true love's kiss breaking a dark one's curse…_

Emma flicked the page, finding it continued on speaking of the dark one's curse through the next couple of pages; still, she remained on that first page, sinking feeling in her stomach as she reread the first few paragraphs a couple more times.

"' _It's only by the hand of their dagger that a dark one may die,"_ Emma read under her breath. " _In that case, the person to commit the murder shall have the powers transferred to them; hence…_ '"

The last sentence got caught up in her throat, as she finally made sense of it.

 _Making them the next dark one._

The idea suddenly nauseated her, and she forcefully closed the book; loudly throwing it back down under her bed. Whatever else that book might say, she didn't want to read it.

Emma hugged her own legs, feeling her heart suddenly go at an alarmingly fast pace.

So, that was it, huh? Things could only end in two ways: with death or becoming the next host of the dark one's curse — and Emma actually couldn't decide which one was worse.

Did he even realize he had set himself into such path of self-destruction?

Did he really know? Did he embrace the consequences of it?

Become the person he hated most, just for the sake of avenging a long-lost true love. She wasn't sure if it was a case of hopeless romance or just downright stupidity. Probably the later.

When had she started to care so much, anyway?

With a deep sigh, she realized she shouldn't.

She'd been diving into some sort of fantasy, pretending she could be someone else — pretending she could be with someone like him, ignore all the warning signs and alarms that were screaming for her to get away since the moment she'd met him.

To keep on seeing him, to keep on caring… He was set on a dark path, and if she didn't back away in time — she was bound to become part of the collateral damage.

Maybe it was time to stop with this play-pretend. She was a princess, and dealing with this – whatever this might be – wouldn't ever be part of the many duties her life carried.

She had enough concerns in her life to ever lose sleep over this… _acquaintance_.

And yet, despite her exhaustion, sleep didn't come to her until many hours later.

* * *

If there was something she had to thank this ball and her mother, was that they both kept Emma's thoughts preoccupied throughout the days. She was often too busy with helping decor the ballroom, take care of any little details that were yet to be taken care of.

She found herself not having enough time to think about _that_ , and she preferred it to be that way.

If she didn't think about it she could pretend it'd never happened, right?

She could still be princess Emma, living one day at a time, unaware of the excitements real life could offer her if she only dared step out her gates.

But she was very aware now of what really was waiting for her out there, and that was a feeling she was never able to shake even throughout the days.

A feeling like she had somewhere else to be.

"It's turning out beautiful," Emma sighed, watching her own figure in the mirror, as some final adjustments were being made to her dress. It pressed up tightly to her upper body, showing off her curves and leaving her shoulders bare, to then fall down widely on her legs — in layers and layers of beautiful red fabric.

"You look so lovely, my dear," Snow seemed like she couldn't keep still from all her excitement. Emma even feared she might burst into happy tears any moment now. "I doubt anyone will be able to keep their eyes off you that night."

Emma snorted. "Says the fairest woman in all the lands."

Snow rolled her eyes, walking up to stand beside her, in front of the mirror. "Maybe once — but I have wrinkles now, honey."

"And they make you even prettier," Emma responded, giving her mother a warm smile.

"Hush now," Snow waved it off, despite the slight rosy tint of her cheeks. "How will you wear your hair?"

Emma slightly moved her head around, watching the wild, blonde strands of hair falling down onto her shoulders. "Hm, I'm not sure," she mumbled.

"How about…" Snow began, hands going up to wrap around her hair. She held it up above her hair, twisting the thick hairs around into a bun.

Both mother and daughter shared knowing looks through the mirror.

"Perfect… _Oh!_ " Emma exclaimed, turning around to face her mother as soon as she released her hair back into her shoulders. "Remember those ribbons Granny gave me a couple years ago — the really pretty ones? I think the color matches the dress perfectly. I could use them."

Lifting the dress up just the slightest, Emma moved away from the mirror, ready to head upstairs and look for the ribbons up in her room.

" _Emma._ " She heard Snow's reprimanding sigh from behind herself. "Don't you dare get that dress dirty already!"

So, upon her mother insistence, she stripped out of the gown and back into one of her everyday dresses. Emma made her way up to her tower, shutting the door behind herself before kneeling in front of the chest she kept by the foot of her bed.

She lifted the lid with a small grunt at how heavy it was and soon enough began moving the stuff around, in hopes of finding the small silky ribbons without having to make a mess.

She gave up on her attempt on not making a mess fairly quickly, and she began taking thing after thing out of the chest; placing them carefully down on the floor as she emptied its contents. Little trinkets and treasures she'd gathered over the years, objects most wouldn't find to be of much value — but they were memories to her.

It was after setting aside a couple of porcelain dolls that Emma's hands stumbled upon a stack of letters, about a couple dozens of neatly folded parchments.

The beautiful cursive letter could belong to no other than Belle, and she smiled briefly as she went through the papers — earliest date being December from two years ago. From then on, there was a letter for each month of the year, no exception.

The last one was dated September 5th.

 _My dearest friend,_

 _How's your family? How are you? I truly hope everything is well._

 _I miss you terribly. I miss my father terribly. But lately, things have been… strangely normal. Perhaps I've grown used to this, but I no longer feel like a fish out of water here. Rumplestiltskin… I've stopped seeing him as a beast now. Everything is complicated around him, but I'm starting to believe there's more than just darkness to him._

 _It's so hard to explain over here, but even if you do not comprehend, be happy for me that for the first time in the past couple of years I feel things are headed the right way for me._

 _You'll be hearing from me soon. I'm sure we'll get to speak in person sooner than we think, just be patient._

 _Until then, all my love,_

 _Belle._

Emma checked the entire stack a second time; certain this one was the last bit of news she'd gotten for her — yet still wanting to make sure she hadn't by any chance missed anything. But no, this was the final one; dating from a little more than a month ago.

It was the first time in two years she'd spent so long without writing.

Emma read the letter once again, and yet one more time.

 _I'm sure we'll get to speak in person sooner than we think…_

She'd thought nothing of it the time she'd gotten that letter, but now… Killian had told her those days ago, Belle had been seen around the town — in _Emma's_ lands.

Had that been what Belle had tried to tell her in that letter? That she was planning to escape?

If Belle had really escaped— if she was really out there, why say nothing?

 _You'll be hearing from me soon._

Emma folded the letter, pressing it to her chest as she sighed deeply. She had a really, really bad feeling about all of this.

And she knew she couldn't keep staying away from all of this.

* * *

She'd made up her mind.

Would she eventually regret it? Probably. But she was sure she'd regret more turning a blind eye on it all, never knowing what would've happened if she only _tried_.

The docks were her best shot. She'd managed to get on her mother's good side, making sure their tasks wouldn't take longer than a little past noon that day; a perfect time for her to go on a ride to the town. And, Emma guessed, while the pirate did appear to have a drinking problem — she doubted he spent his entire days alone by the bar, drowning himself in rum.

"Killian?" Emma called out as she carefully stepped into the Jolly Roger's deck. She felt somewhat like an intruder, showing up at his ship unannounced after days of silence. She wasn't sure if he'd want to speak with her.

She wasn't even sure he was there as she looked around the nearly empty deck — nearly, as in there was just one other soul besides herself in it. The bright red beanie made him hard to miss; he was round and short, humming a cheerful tune as he moped around the floor. She easily guessed he was part of Killian's crew.

"Excuse me," she called, taking a few short steps towards him. She saw the man jump slightly, eyes shooting up to her figure. "Do you know where Hook might be?"

The man was quick to stop his task and accommodated the beanie over his head nervously. "He's below deck, ma'am — captain doesn't really like to be bothered. D'you wish to leave him a message?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Message? If she wanted to leave a message, she would've sent a bird.

"No need," Emma shook her head in response, giving him a polite smile. Her head went to a side as she spotted the small hatch that led below deck, and she pointed that direction. "Over there, right?"

She didn't wait for the response before heading that way. Nearly immediately, she heard small rushed steps behind her.

"I'm not sure if you—"

"I can handle the captain all by myself, sir," Emma responded amusedly, holding back a smile as she made her way to the other side of the deck. She sensed a glint of nervousness and worry beneath his voice, and Emma wondered if the captain perhaps was a tad harsher to his crew than he would ever be with her.

Emma stopped dead in her tracks –making the shorter man nearly bump into her– as the hatch opened a few feet away from her, watching as Killian appeared from below deck, climbing up the small ladder.

Killian halted for a moment as he noticed her presence, flashing her a grin.

"Swan — what the bloody hell are you doing here?"

There was a cheerfulness to his voice, one that reached all the way up to his eyes, and for some reason it made her feel relieved — like the past days without seeing him had brought a weight upon her shoulders she'd only noticed now, and a deep breath escaped her lips.

"I wanted to speak with you," Emma simply answered.

"Okay," Killian mumbled, shutting the hatch closed behind himself, and meeting her eyes. "What—"

Emma snorted, in the attempt of holding back a laugh. " _Alone,_ " she mouthed, and immediately saw his blue eyes shift to a couple feet behind her, frown reaching his face as he looked like he just now had noticed the shorter man's presence.

Killian cleared his throat. Upon receiving no response, he spoke, tone strident and filled with annoyance, " _Smee._ "

The man, Smee, jumped himself straight upon hearing his name. "Yes, sir?"

"Off you go. _Now_ ," he barked, a clear order. He dripped authority, she noticed with slight admiration, and pitied the men who had to live under his barking and bossing around. She doubted many of them would be eager to defy any orders that came from the captain.

Certainly, Smee didn't — as in no time he was taking a few steps backward and turning around, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Yes, sir!"

Emma's eyes followed his short figure as he made his way out of the ship, a low chuckle escaping her lips as she turned to look at Killian. "He seems nice."

"Good man — a pain in the ass a lot of times, though," Killian grunted, yet his expression was quickly softened as he looked at her. "What's going on, Swan? I was starting to think you were—"

 _Upset_ , she guessed he'd say that. Despite the teasing tone to his voice, Emma believed to sense something buried within it — relief, and perhaps a glint of insecurity. After all, their previous meeting hadn't ended under… _normal_ circumstances. He'd opened up to her for the first time that night, and surely, he'd noticed her leaving upset over the fact that he shut her out right away. That'd been days ago, passed by without either of them hearing anything from the other.

And, in reality, he wouldn't be wrong about that — she _was_ upset, after all. Angry that she'd just started to know him better, looked underneath that cocky pirate act and come to realize she actually _liked_ what she had found; all to later find he'd give it all away just to achieve his revenge.

But that was something she didn't want to admit to him.

"I was _fine,_ " Emma cut him off quickly, correcting him. "I had a lot in my mind. You know, _princess stuff_ — I've been getting things ready for the ball and…"

She rambled about her excuses –none of them were actually lies–, and found herself glad one of them had peaked his interest.

"You're hosting a ball?"

"I thought you would've known by now," Emma shrugged it off. "This town goes crazy over my so-called birthday balls."

"Will I receive an invitation, your highness?" he teased her, raising his eyebrows at her briefly.

Emma snorted, as she wondered what her parents' reactions might be if they noticed a one-handed pirate going around at their ball.

"I didn't know Captain Hook enjoyed dancing," Emma teased back at him, and Killian's smirk widened.

"It depends."

"On?" she wondered, giving him a curious look.

"Whether or not I have the right partner." He raised his eyebrows at her, giving her that flirtatious look of his she hated to admit she profoundly missed that past couple of days; and she had to quickly remind herself she hadn't broken her will to stay away from him only for them to continue playing their usual flirty game of cat and mouse.

"I need to tell you something," Emma stated abruptly, making him replace his flirty look with one of surprise and curiosity.

"Go ahead, love."

Emma breathed in deeply, wondering where to start. "Remember… days ago, you told me you were looking for someone," she began carefully. "A woman, named Belle."

"Aye…" he affirmed slowly, clearly unsure of where the conversation was about to head towards to.

"I know her."

His eyebrows raised with surprise for a moment. He blinked a couple of times, folding his arms over his chest as he seemed thoughtful. After a brief moment of silence, he spoke, "Makes sense. You're both princesses—"

"It's more than us just being that," Emma clarified. "We are friends, good friends. At least we were, until Rumplestiltskin took her."

Emma grabbed the small satchel that hung by her hip, opening it and pulling out the neatly folded letter from it.

"She's been sending me letters for the past few years, every single month. This was the last letter she sent me," she continued on explaining as she carefully unfolded the paper. A pinkish tint showed on her cheeks as she was about to show him words that were written just for her, and she hoped Belle wouldn't mind she was allowing someone else to intrude on their private words. "The date is from more than a month ago. I should've heard news from her by now, and yet…"

Emma handed him the small letter and waited for a few moments in silence as he read the words written over the paper. Once his eyes went back up to lock with hers, still unclear of what she was trying to show him, Emma continued on speaking:

"What you told me about her being seen around here, and what that letter says — it makes me think she did escape, somehow," she told him. "Still, things just don't add up. She would've come to me; she knows we would've taken good care of her, granted her protection and even safe passage to head back to her kingdom. Still, she's—"

"She's been out here, not saying a word," Killian concluded, brows furrowing deeply as he held onto the letter for a couple of moments, before handing it back to her.

"Yes," she nodded, placing the piece of paper back into her satchel. "She's been roaming around the town, and then disappearing without a trace… There's something off, if you ask me."

Killian seemed to absorbed in his own thoughts for a moment, before raising a suspicious eyebrow at her. "Why tell me all this, lass?" he carefully inquired.

It was a good question. Why had she come here, meeting up with the man she'd spent the last days convincing herself she was best away from, was still something unbeknownst to her.

All she knew was that her friend was lost, and she had to do something about it. And despite her constant wish to prove she could do and be more than what people had always thought her to be, she knew this was something she couldn't do on her own. She needed his help — and hopefully, he'd need hers too.

And while she couldn't deny that he surely meant trouble for her, she couldn't deny either that they both had made a connection— ever since that fateful moment she stole that satchel of his.

"I need to know what's going on with her. I can't stand and watch while I know she might be out there, in trouble. I don't…" Emma hesitated for a moment, inhaling deeply. "I don't want anything to do with your _foolish_ quest for revenge; but right now, we both want the same thing — to find Belle. So… I'll do whatever I can to help find my friend."

"You'll help?" Killian asked, shock quite present in his features, and at Emma's decided nod in response the beginning of a smirk curved up the corners of his mouth. "Then, I'm sure we'll make quite the team, love."

* * *

Emma's presence on his ship that day had been a surprise; a pleasant one, of course — and quite unexpected.

A part of him, actually, hadn't expected her to ever show up again at all.

He remembered the last night they'd shared. She was so pretty, with her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, sharing her thoughts and stories — she'd turned out to be so much more than he'd originally thought, and he'd cherished every moment of the hours they'd shared.

And then she'd asked about Milah, and he had been enough of a fool to answer. He allowed her to dive deep into his past, so effortlessly it scared him — she'd looked at him with such understanding, grabbed his hand like she cared.

She'd pulled herself too close to him, and he'd been scared by how badly he wanted her close. So, he pushed her out.

He hadn't failed to see the hurt buried beneath her eyes as he pulled from her, pretended that the small moment of proximity hadn't occurred. He'd watched her leave, and relief filled him.

It was easier to ignore his feelings when she wasn't around.

Still, that didn't keep him from spending his next night by the bar — secretly hoping she'd appear. And the next, and the next. She never showed, of course.

He'd already started to think maybe he'd pushed her out too far, and she'd decided to not walk back in anymore.

But then she'd walked into his ship, and seeing her was like lifting off a weight he hadn't realized he had been carrying all those days without her.

And of course, the reason to her visit was clearly something he wasn't expecting — though, in reality, Killian was by this point sure Emma wouldn't ever cease to surprise him.

That's why he didn't think much of it when Emma suddenly looked at him decidedly, asking him if he had any maps of the Enchanted Forest in his ship. It'd provoked a curiosity-filled eyebrow raise and a snort (' _I'm a bloody pirate, Swan — what kind of question is that?_ ') as a reply, before leading her down to his quarters.

The lass asked for a quill and some ink too, and he obliged; setting them all on his desk.

Killian watched her, taking a step back and sitting with his arms folded, curiosity and amusement on his face as Emma seemed to comfortably go around his room, like it was her own.

Pinning the map to one of the walls, she stood in front of it; feathers of the quill caught between her lips.

"Okay — where was Belle first seen?"

She spent the next few moments making smooth black lines throughout the map, stopping every now and then to make comments or ask questions; to which he was always quick to respond — questions like for how long he had been behind Belle's trail, and what places he knew she'd been seen in.

With every response, Emma made new lines and circled new towns, taking some moments to scribble down the more important details they could remember alongside the lines.

Truth is, he wasn't as focused on the task as he was on admiring her. It'd happened since perhaps even the first time he'd seen her, with those lovely green eyes of hers and fiery personality — she made him forget about who he is and what he's supposed to be doing, and instead made him just stare.

Killian grinned, standing up from his seat by the time Emma finally took a step back, eyeing her work carefully. "Brilliant, love."

Emma gave him a shy smile in response. She pointed at her kingdom, which was currently circled as the last location they knew Belle had been to. "Now, all we need is to figure out where she went next. Easy, right?"

"Been trying to do that for weeks now, lass," he grunted.

Emma nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she placed her focus back into the map. "I doubt she headed back home," she thought out loud. "It's a long trip from here to her kingdom, and if she's just escaped from Rumplestiltskin I don't think she has the energy, nor the means to make such trip."

"Still, if by any chance she's managed to be heading there, the Jolly will easily catch up to her."

"Can she really?" Emma raised an eyebrow at him.

Killian smirked. "I've already told you, love, she's the fastest."

Emma seemed unconvinced, a slight smirk on her face. "You say that just because she's your ship."

"Don't underestimate her," Killian said, slightly offended. "I'll take you sailing with me someday, and you'll see for yourself."

He wasn't sure where that idea had come from. Maybe because it felt tempting in his head to be the one person to take her out onto the world, like he was sure she'd always dreamt of; be the one to watch her face as she discovered for the first time how broad and thrilling the sea could be.

He'd said it like it was a certain thing; when in reality, it was hard imagining that _someday_ ever coming to be. Maybe by the time he was done with his revenge once and for all – _if_ he even came to survive it–, he could return to her — take her to a pretty island someplace far off, if she only wanted him to.

But for now, their paths seemed to be as further away from each other's as they could be; they were just at a brief, sudden crossroad that would soon be over with.

The expression on Emma's face made him believe she was thinking the same thing. She looked away, and cleared her throat, thankfully changing the subject:

"So, you really think she's just headed home?"

Killian thought about it for a moment.

"I don't know — probably not," he shook his head, thoughtfully scratching his stubble. "It's a journey most sailors would ask a handful of gold to make, and it's no smart move to pay some stranger to take her, taking into consideration the fact that she's a very valuable woman. Not only she's a princess but she's also a person of interest to the Dark One."

"And I'm sure Rumplestiltskin isn't one to let somebody break a deal and just walk off," Emma concluded with a nod. "He has to be looking for her."

It made sense, didn't it? He doubted anyone had ever fooled the man and left unscathed. He'd be looking for her, that was sure — and being a man of such power, Killian doubted the missing princess would ever be safe, even if she'd managed to get miles away from Rumplestiltskin's lands.

It wasn't about just finding her; it was about finding her before he did.

"For all we know, he might've found her already — that'd explain why there hasn't been any word on her since she last showed up here weeks ago."

"Maybe she's hiding," Emma suggested in an attempt to stay hopeful, and then shook her head in defeat. "But speculating will lead us nowhere. If we want to know what happened, we need to talk to the last people we know saw her."

"Got that covered already," Killian responded quickly. "If any of the men she left with step a foot into this town, I'll be the first one to know."

Emma raised an eyebrow at him, making him shrug.

"Nothing to be impressed of — a few golden coins can buy you about anything in this town," he wiggled his eyebrows. "I've got eyes and ears everywhere."

"Good," Emma gave him a sharp nod, before taking a few steps back; backing off until her legs met the foot of his bed, and she carefully sat down on it.

Turning his head to watch her, he curiously noticed the way she was now contemplating her surroundings — a spark of curiosity that mimicked his own. It seemed like after all the time they'd been down there, it was only now she was starting to be aware of where she was.

"So, this is your cabin," she wondered out loud, probably more to herself than to him.

Still, he nodded. "Aye."

Killian leaned against the wall, eyes following her every move as she got up on her feet –he chuckled under his breath as the swaying of the ship made her stumble slightly–, and began slowly looking around; fingers carefully grazing against the decorations as she seemed deep in her thoughts.

The thing that truly appeared to catch her eye was his bookstand, as she stopped right in front of it. Emma turned around to meet eyes with him, a small smile on her face. "You read?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Killian rolled his eyes in slight annoyance. "It's the only entertainment one can get while at sea."

It was true. There wasn't so much you could do during those long weeks of sailing, and losing oneself within a book was about the one thing to help remind you there really was a life outside the seemingly unending sea.

Most of the books there once belonged to his brother, being his favorites. Some, Killian had actually taken as favorites for himself as well; while some others, he'd never even picked up — remaining there, untouched since his brother's death. He'd left them to dust, never having the courage to pick them up and place them someplace else. He couldn't move them away when they belonged there, in his –and Liam's– cabin.

He watched Emma's lips move silently, as she closely examined the books' loins, reading the names delicately written in them.

A sudden snort broke the silence.

"Romeo and Juliet?" Emma read out loud, questioning expression on her face. "Captain Hook's a romantic now, huh?"

"I'm not," Killian snapped, scowl on his face. He was — but Emma didn't really need to learn that about him. "A lot of these books were once my brother's."

"Whatever you say, Hook," she mocked him, pulling out said book from the shelve as she softly chuckled.

Her chuckles were quickly interrupted by coughs as she opened the book, a small cloud of dust flying up to her face.

It was Killian the one chuckling now. "Gotten choked up, your highness?" he mocked back at her.

"Urgh, so maybe they were his, after all" she groaned, closing the book and waving the dust off of her face.

Placing the book back inside and turning around, something seemed to shift within her expression as her eyes took one final journey throughout his cabin. "You said your brother was captain once," Emma stated, realization upon her face. "This used to be his cabin."

"A long time ago, yes," Killian nodded in response.

"Long as in…?" she trailed off.

"Centuries," he stated, and a silence followed for a few brief seconds.

His brother wasn't something he really spoke about — most wouldn't ever learn he'd ever had a brother. Liam was a secret, along with Milah, he carried very close to himself; only his crew being the ones aware of the captain's many losses. Not because he wished to erase the memories of them; but because when people don't know you care, they can never guess you're hurt.

And the fewer people knew about how deeply his heart had been wounded before, the better.

And still, with Emma the words seemed to slip out of his mouth oh-so-easily. Just one look into her big green eyes, and he'd been mentioning his brother to her — and later spilling his guts out about Milah. She wasn't just unveiling all of his secrets; he was willingly giving them to her, and that freaked him out the most.

Any moment now, she'd be leaving him bare and exposed for the entire world to see.

"Killian?" her voice broke the silence, small and hesitant; like it scared her to voice out the question dancing on the tip of her tongue.

"Yes, love?"

"What was he like?"

He'd been expecting it, yet still, the question threw him aback for just a moment. He looked at her, eyes wide as he pondered on what to answer.

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," Emma added carefully.

And there she was, about to bring yet another secret out into the light — and still, he didn't mind.

Opening up to her was easy; maybe because in her eyes he saw wisdom beyond her years, and knew she would understand better than most.

He felt they'd been understanding each other since the moment he'd stolen that necklace of hers.

Killian slowly made his way to the bed, sitting by a corner as he wondered what the hell could he even begin with.

So, he never spoke of Liam; but still, he told her. Liam, his passionate and caring brother; who could be stern as a father, yet as playful and loving as any older brother could.

He told her how it was like sailing under his command — though it was more like sailing by his side, as never did he feel anything less than his equal.

He mentioned his death briefly –hoping she didn't notice it would still sting–; how the older Jones brother could be so infuriatingly stubborn it'd led him straight to his own death.

A man of honor always; as a young lad, Killian had wanted to be just like him. He wondered now, hundreds of years and uncountable misdeeds after his death, what would his brother think of him now. Would he be angry at him? Disappointed, maybe?

A very long time ago, he'd dreamt of being a man Liam would be proud of. Clearly, he'd drifted far — very far from that.

Emma was the one to break him away from his thoughts. "He sounds like a good man."

She still stood by the bookstand, small arms hugging her figure; as she seemed to be doubting whether to approach him. Getting too close might mean pushing him away, too.

He noticed a tint of sadness within the small smile she wore; and as Killian watched her, the thought popped into his head that his brother and she could've easily gotten along. _Both stubborn and daring and kind._

Killian patted the mattress right beside him, signaling to come and sit by his side.

"Aye, love. He was."

* * *

 **A/N: I was thrilled by the response the previous chapter got! It's so lovely hearing you're enjoying this story so far (even though we've _barely_ just started), and to hear your thoughts and comments! Thank you. **

**While the previous chapters haven't been too eventful, as they're just setting the story and the characters, the next couple chapters will be rather long, and they'll have some great CS moments - so look out for that ;) Have a great week, guys.**


	7. Complicated Feelings

**Chapter Seven: Complicated Feelings.**

Despite him being a man capable of dealing with hundreds of years of waiting, he was sure growing quite impatient that evening; as he leaned against the wall right outside the pub, arms crossed. His eyes trailed around the streets in front of himself, hoping any moment now the princess would finally make an appearance.

Still, he hadn't been kept waiting for that long, actually. Maybe an hour had passed, give or take, since he'd gotten response from Emma saying she'd be just heading out to meet him.

That first day Emma had visited his cabin, when they'd agreed on helping each other, Emma and he had accorded on a way of letting each other know of any news on their current search.

He had been lying on his bed, legs crossed and back rested against the headboard. Emma, on the other hand, sat facing him; a distance kept between the two of them, one neither of them made an effort to break — not because he lacked the desire of having her close, but because they felt comfortable enough that way.

It felt a lot less complicated, as they settled instead with just relaxing at each other's presence, sharing lighthearted conversations for what had felt like hours, as the Jolly rocked beneath them. It was something they could both deal with. It was something he could get used to.

"I should head out now," Emma had mumbled, sudden distress on her face. The bed shifted under them as she got on her feet, hands smoothing out the lower end of her dress. "I've been gone for too long."

He wished the disappointment upon his features wasn't that obvious, as he had to bite his own tongue to prevent himself from saying something foolish, like asking her to stay

Instead, he had just nodded.

"You'll let me know if anything new happens?"

"Right — as soon as something happens, you'll have me throwing pebbles at your tower's window, princess," he had claimed with sarcasm, showcasing a charming grin; making Emma watch him in deep annoyance.

"Send a bird better."

"Don't be so cheesy, Swan."

"I'm serious, Hook," she had rolled her eyes. "Birds excel at delivering messages, no matter how cheesy that might be. Just make sure they're small — and offer them a treat, or two before."

"Fine," he'd said, moving to the edge of the bed and raising himself up from it. "I'll let you know if anything new comes up, then."

Emma stood in front of him, showing him a slight smile. "I'll be waiting for it."

Something in the way she pronounced the words made him think there was more to them; a secret hopefulness hidden beneath at the idea of hearing from _him_. He smiled gladly at the thought and on a whim, he'd taken her hand in his and carefully pressed his lips to the skin, like he'd done a couple of times before — and he thoroughly enjoyed the pink tint of her cheeks that came right after it. "Have a safe trip back home, your highness."

She had failed to hide the shy smile on her face as she left his cabin.

The days that passed after that were just as futile as the past couple weeks had been concerning his task of finding Belle, with no signs of any progress ahead of them at all; until that afternoon, that was. As soon as the news had reached him, the first time he'd done was scribble down a quick note and tying it down to a bird's leg, just like Emma had suggested, and waited anxiously for her response, which got there sooner than he'd anticipated.

 _On my way_. That was her message. So, he waited.

But still, he felt anxious. He wasn't used to waiting around anyone. No, he worked alone; never the idea of working as a team with someone having occurred to him. He'd always had his crew and Smee by his side, and they were good, faithful companions but they still were disposable. None had a voice or an active role in whatever his plans were; it was himself, and only himself, the one who mattered within his plans.

Now, however, it wasn't just him. Now, all the sudden, he had a partner; determined and intelligent and lovely, and even sometimes downright frightening.

Frightening because first, despite her innocent and even slightly fragile looks, the lass was one hell of a tough, stubborn woman. Capable of daring him with no second thoughts; of besting him like it were a task she'd been born for.

Second, and more importantly, was the fact that even though he'd always enjoyed the freedom of dealing with it all on his own, she'd made him discover that having her by the side felt a whole lot better than the freedom of loneliness. Even despite the fact they shared no motives, joined in their task because of entirely opposite reasons — yet together something seemed to click.

With Emma by his side, it no longer felt like success was a far-off thought.

So, he waited for her. And while he was sure ecstatic over the fact there was finally some progress in their search for the first time in weeks, he couldn't deny he also felt rather eager to see her.

It wasn't until some minutes later that he caught sight of her hooded figure, taking long strides towards him. A slight smile appeared on his face at her presence, and he pushed himself off the wall. "At last."

"Hey," Emma stopped in front of him, seemingly anxious. "What's happened? You said it was urgent, and I got here as soon as I could—"

"Come." He nodded at the tavern's door, making his way to it. He pushed it open and stepped aside, allowing her to walk inside first.

Killian's hand laid on the small of her back as he guided her through the tables and noisy people at the tavern; stopping as they got to the bar, and he wordlessly sat on one of the stools.

Killian whistled at the man standing behind the bar, as Emma sat right next to him, eyeing him curiously. "Two bottles of rum, quickly."

Emma's brow furrowed. "Please don't tell me drinking is the _rather urgent_ thing you called me here for."

Killian rolled her eyes at her in annoyance, and then leaned his face to a side, closer to her ear. "There's a group of men sitting two tables behind us. See them?" he said lowly.

He watched Emma shift around slowly, turning her head just the slightest as she watched behind herself.

"The table with three men? One wears a dark blue shirt?" Emma described them after turning her head back to him, making sure she was watching the right table.

"Aye," Killian nodded. "They're the group of men our dear friend Belle left with weeks ago. If we can get some information about where she went, it's from them."

"So, what's the plan? Getting them drunk?" Emma wondered, raising an unimpressed eyebrow as the man at the bar loudly placed two bottles in front of them, and Killian threw a couple of coins onto the counter.

Killian smirked cockily at her, getting up on his feet as he took the couple of bottles in his hand. "We make some friends, love."

Emma let out a deep breath, and stood from her seat, following right after him. They both made their way to the table, and Killian cleared his throat to gain the group of men's attention, making them stop their loud chattering and focus on the pair.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Emma was the one to greet them, a smile plastered on her face.

" _Good evening._ "

" _'Ello, lassie._ "

The men eyed her with curiosity, perhaps even slight suspicion, yet Emma paid no mind to it. "We just thought you guys looked like you were in need of a bit more to drink, huh?"

It was then that they seemed to focus on Killian, and more importantly, the bottles he waved in his hand — and their expressions changed in no time; lighting up as they cheered and moved to make room for the couple newcomers to sit along with them and leave the rum on the table.

Killian didn't think much of them, as they sat upon the table and engaged in conversation with the three of them. They were simple commoners, apparently, without much to say or tell — the conversations upon the table being ones of the hard works they endured, or women. They seemed even cheerier than before, clearly delighted by the unexpected, free drinks — and they wasted no time in opening the first bottle, serving a round of drinks in celebration.

The sturdiest of them, who'd introduced himself as Ray, had pulled out a few dice and cups soon after their arrival to the table, and distributed them between all who sat on the table — except for Emma, who claimed she had no idea of how to play such games.

She settled instead with paying close attention to Killian's movements during the game, attempting to silently figure out how it was played. He lifted his cup slightly, as she shifted her seat closer to his, so she could also see the dices hidden beneath, and he explained under his breath:

"It's a game of deceit, actually rather popular at sea. You're constantly guessing the number of the dices in the hands of all the players until one is called out as a liar."

By the time a second round started —the first having Killian come out victorious—, Emma dared to join in the game, and Killian found himself watching her with suspicion, as he began to doubt she'd been saying the truth of never having played the game. She seemed to get the hang of it rather quickly, and nearly immediately called Ray out as a liar, earning herself a victory on her first attempt at the game.

Killian, however, caught her bluffing during the next round, and he gave her a charming smile in response to the glare she gave him as she was eliminated from the game.

They shared another round of rum before starting the following round, and Killian decided it was a good time to bring the subject in, as he rolled the dice within his cup, and placed it on the table.

"I must admit, mates, us joining you tonight is no coincidence," Killian said. "We wished to speak with you. Word has it, you've met a friend of ours recently; she left town with you lot. Her name's Belle."

The three of them shared a look, shaking their heads slightly at each other, and the one in front of him, Nathaniel, shrugged. "I don't think it rings any bells."

"I'm sure you _do_ know her," Emma chimed in quickly, "Blue eyes, brown hair — reads an awful lot."

"Oh, _her_." Ray, who sat on the seat beside hers, scowled as he took a sip of his drink. "Yeah, I remember her. It seemed like her nose was glued to that silly book of hers. We have her a ride, yes; until not too far from here, by the Sillas River. She continued her journey on foot, and we didn't ask where she was headed to."

"Two threes." The third man seemed to have no interest in the conversation, as he urged the game to be continued.

"Are you certain, mate?" Killian leaned back into his seat, watching Ray as he nodded, and a frustrated sigh left his mouth. He didn't feel too convinced by the information, for some reason. He shifted his attention back to the game; though his mind was definitely far away from it. "Three fours."

He jumped slightly when he felt long fingers wrapping around his arm, delicately pressing over the sleeve of his coat. Emma leaned over to him until her lips were mere inches away from his ear, and she whispered, "Can we talk?"

Her voice was low, and her breath was warm against his skin, and for some reason, it brought a chill down his spine. He nodded briefly in response, pulling his seat back and raising from the table. He stretched out his hand and helped Emma do the same once she had her hand in his; all while he addressed the men sitting in front of them, offering them a polite nod. "Excuse us for a moment."

Killian didn't let go of her hand once they were up on his feet; instead, he carefully led her through the pub, once more stopping by the bar. He released her hand and threw a discreet look at the table they'd just left, wanting to keep them on his sight still, and making sure they weren't listening.

"Do you also feel like something's off?" He wondered to Emma as he faced her, leaning towards her so the words would be heard only by her. She nodded in response.

"I do. He was lying," Emma stated decidedly, no glimpse of doubt in her voice.

The way she spoke the words, like it wasn't a suspicion but more of a fact, made Killian's gaze to be filled with curiosity. "You seem… _certain_."

Emma seemed to be biting down her inner cheek, doubtful, before she opened her mouth and spoke, "I _know_ he is lying. I've always had this…" she seemed to struggle to find the words. "I can tell when someone is lying to me."

Killian blinked a couple times in surprise. Emma's words were spoken in complete seriousness, and while it was the oddest claim he had ever heard her make, he decided not to question it. It was a peculiar talent to have, but he'd already fallen to the conclusion that there wasn't much that Emma _couldn't_ do. Also, that could explain why she'd sensed the deception in the game with such ease. _What a cheater._

Killian frowned, wondering how many times she would have analyzed him in search of lies of his own. "When were you thinking to share _that_?"

"Well, _now_ ," she smiled sheepishly at him, before shifting her eyes briefly to the table, and speaking in a low voice. "They're trying to hide something."

Killian followed her gaze, thoughtful for a second. Did they not want Belle's whereabouts to be revealed? Or perhaps, they were attempting to cover something up. Whatever it was they refused to share, he'd get it out of them one way or another.

He could be a very persuasive man — either with his charisma, or his menacing behavior. And there was no way he'd be stepping a foot out of the tavern without any answers; he'd be by the men's side all night long if that was what it took to bend their will.

Which, men often didn't take long to break under the pirate's threats.

"Well, they won't be able to hide it for too long."

As soon as Killian attempted to take a step ahead he had Emma's hand pressed against his chest, gentle yet firm enough to stop him; the tips of her fingers pressing lightly on his skin, where the first few buttons of his black shirt remained undone.

Killian's eyebrows raised in a silent question, and Emma shook her head. "It's best if we don't cause a scene."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes at her, as she retreated her hand. "What do you suggest we do then, princess?"

Emma returned his gaze intently, seemingly thoughtful; to then throw a quick glance back at the table, as her eyes seemed to light up with the sudden flash of an idea. She looked hesitant for a moment and had a sharp intake of breath.

"We try a different tactic," she proposed with determination, looking back at him.

Immediately, Emma's hands raised just over her head, taking the thick fabric of her hood to push it off her head, and untied the small knot that kept the hood placed over her shoulders. She then took the small pins that kept her hair in place, pulling them out and letting them drop to the floor.

Blonde curls fell to frame her face, slightly messy and she combed her fingers through them, in an attempt to quickly fix them.

A faint smell of vanilla and daisies hit him, and he didn't bother to ask what the hell she was doing; he was content with just staring for a moment.

That is until her next move happened to be tugging her dress a little lower, and tightening the strands at the front of it, making her chest appear fuller. His mouth suddenly felt dry, and it was _ridiculous_ how flustered it truly made him feel. He had to blink a few times and shake his head as he willed himself to keep his stare away from _that_.

"What are you doing?" The words left his mouth quickly, in utter disconcert.

Emma looked up at him, eyebrows raising at the surprised and uneasy tone of his voice. Nearly immediately, as she must've seen something within his expression that she liked, she offered him a smug and pleased smirk, and purred in response:

"I believe it's called seduction, captain; I thought you'd be familiar with it by now."

He blankly stared at her for a second; until he joined the dots in his head, and a sudden pang of anger ran through his chest. "Emma—" he grunted, a warning in his voice; taking a small step to a side as if to block her path.

" _Killian_ ," Emma calmly spoke in return, her hand reaching up to softly squeeze his arm in reassurance, before gently pushing him aside. "I'll be fine. Now, go have some fun with your _mates_ , while I deal with this."

Killian frowned deeply, mouth opening as he tried to find anything to let her know this was a terrible idea, the worst idea she could've come up with, and that he certainly wasn't happy with it. Still, she had looked at him with such a determination that told him she was not going to back away no matter what he said — in fact, she was already striding her way back into the table, not taking a second glance at him at any moment.

He watched the blonde press her hands upon the table with a slight thud, leaning in front of the group as she spoke loudly:

" _Now that old pirate is gone, how about we have some real fun now?_ "

* * *

To say Killian was sulking was an understatement.

There wasn't ever a day in which the tavern wasn't filled with joyful drunken men and enchanting wrenches, and that day wouldn't be the exception to the norm. But at that moment, then and there, that amount of liveliness surrounding him did nothing but deepen the scowl on his face. Like everyone else's happiness were only a beating reminder of how bad of a time he was really having.

Perhaps he was a masochist, as he'd decided to sit some tables away from her; alone, instead of doing what she'd told him to and just _have some fun with his mates_. They'd be surely wondering why the hell had he just walked past them, opting against the enjoyment and the wrenches, to stick with the long and distasteful night that seemed to be ahead of him.

Killian was certain none of the men in her table had seen him, as in no moment any of their eyes had glanced his way — and of course, they wouldn't, as they had something better to stare at. Killian himself had been one to already fall under that sort of spell; senses clouded as he wasn't able to do nothing more than _stare_.

And that was what he did right then and there, placing the glass to his lips continuously as he stared. Emma moved slowly and delicately; and while Killian couldn't make out what she was saying to those men, he could surely see the slightly curved lips, the batting lashes, the fingers barely grazing one of the guys' arm.

It's an act.

 _It's all an act_ , he reminded himself. _She's playing them, you know that._

And still, his jaw clenched in an attempt of ignoring the boiling of his blood with every shamelessly flirty act she put on. Because the thing was, he could also see their faces — their lust-filled glares, meant for her. He breathed in deeply, holding back the impulse to let his presence be known by banging their heads against the table, again and again until they got the message — that she was not theirs to take.

 _But she isn't yours, either_ , a voice in the back of his head reminded him.

And in the end, that happened to be the real issue here, wasn't it?

It was like a sudden moment of divine enlightenment; in that old, dirty bar — listening to the laughs of whores and drunks as he sunk deeper in his seat with a grunt, he finally understood why it was so hard keeping apart — why it felt so natural to let her in.

He'd screwed up. He hadn't been paying attention, senses clouded — until now, that he'd opened his eyes and realized how deep under his skin she truly was, and now he was…

He was staring.

And bloody hell, maybe her plan really was going to work. There she was, making sure she had them in the palm of her hand with her sugar-coated smiles and a couple of bottles. Bottles which she had made sure were emptied in little less than an hour.

He'd lost count of how many times he'd seen her ask for a toast, and every time the group would cheer in response, happy to oblige. It didn't take long for a third bottle to be brought into the table, and Killian wasn't sure they'd be making it through a fourth one.

Bunch of big, tough guys just about to be fooled by this small, delicate-looking princess.

He admired her, that much was true. Emma had the beauty and grace he'd expected to see from a princess; maybe some of the foolish sweetness that made them oh-so-typically vulnerable as well. But still, there was a fire and determination within her that continued to surprise him, prove him wrong. She was a stubborn brat, infuriating; still surprisingly clever and kind.

Iridescent. That might be the one word to describe her. Warmth and light seemed to flow right through and out of her, like a beaming sun — one which he'd been carelessly flying around, testing his luck.

He was certain he was going to get burnt.

A low chuckle escaped his lips, a smirk replacing his ever-present scowl as he'd finally caught onto her strategy — with every clink of their glasses, Emma waited for the right time to flick the contents of hers out onto the floor, when all the men were distracted enough not to notice. Sneaky, that one.

His chest puffed with pride.

 _That's my lass._

Only she wasn't. She was just _a_ lass, a momentary partnership that would soon fade away as the time came for him to sail off and fulfill his one goal in life.

He felt a slight pain in his chest. _Longing._

If only they'd met in a different time, in a different life. One where his heart had not been torn apart over and over again, become darkened with hatred and bitterness — one where he could've handled it to her, with no worries or second thoughts.

Because he would've. In another life, he would've devoted himself to her right away. He would've done anything in his power to prove himself worthy of her, win her heart fairly.

But she is the sun, and deserved all the planets and stars for herself.

And he was nothing but the shadow of the man of honor he once was.

In another life, one far less complicated than this one, he was sure they could have been in love.

Instead, he just stood in the sidelines, observing her carefully as she continuously proved to be more of a pirate than a princess, with a smirk upon her face and triumph within her eyes.

It was a moment after that Emma raised from her seat, with drawn-out movements, like leaving wasn't something she wanted to do. Killian imitated her moves, raising to his feet as he was ready to go to her and get away from the bar.

He watched her as she spoke to Ray, the one that'd lied to them before, and leaned over the table; hands folded on top of it as she looked at him, determination lying underneath the sweetness of her gaze.

She finished her words turning her smile into a pout, and Killian watched the man respond.

He couldn't help taking a couple of steps forward, in hopes of catching a few of the words they were sharing.

"I've already told you, beautiful. We dropped her off by the river."

"And that's where she was headed?" Emma insisted, eyebrow raised at him.

The smile on Ray's face dropped slightly.

"Eh… Well, no," he admitted and rubbed a hand sloppily over his face. "When I say we _dropped_ her off, it's quite literal. We, um, pushed her off our wagon."

Emma looked scandalized, eyes wide at his response.

"You're saying you kicked my friend off your wagon; left her stranded by the river, _alone_?"

"She sure managed just fine," the one who'd remained the quietest that evening, a man with a long blonde beard, joined the conversation. He shrugged, seemingly displeased at the sudden change of the conversation. "She _was_ a nuisance — sending us off to the bloody wrong path…"

The words had Killian raising an eyebrow, as he listened. So, the lass had been the one guiding them — wrongfully, as it seemed. But where to?

Emma's interest seemed peaked as well, as she urged him to give out some explanations.

"The wrong path? Where were you heading to?" She eyed the blonde guy carefully.

"Nowhere that concerns you." Ray chimed in, and she focused on him instead. "Look — we left there right where I told you, and I've no idea of what happened to her afterwards."

"But it _does_ concern me," Emma replied sharply, giving him a suspicious look. "And I don't believe that. You're hiding something."

"All this questioning is giving me a headache," he grumbled, and sloppily got up on his feet. He nearly knocked his chair down in the process. "I'll go rest for a while."

Emma stood up straight. "No, hold on—"

She took a quick step towards him, and the man glanced at her with a smile upon his face.

"You might want to join," he leaned his face closer to her, his hand wrapping around her wrist and using it to draw her into him. "We could continue on with this conversation upstairs."

"I don't think—"

Killian only realized he'd decided to stop silently eavesdropping and stride his way into the exchange as he found he was already there; his hook placed on the man's shoulder as he pulling him apart from Emma. He noticed her shoulders sagging with relief as soon as her gaze went up to him, and quickly her expression changed — watching him with eyes wide like she was trying to silently convey him a message.

"We're continuing this conversation right here," Killian spoke, keeping his demeanor calm despite the clenching of his fist and the clear threat that laid in his voice, as he added: "And if I were you, I'd keep my hands off the lass."

The man gazed back and forth between Killian and Emma, baffled look on his face, and then a giggle left his mouth, raising his hands in defeat. "You're back!" he exclaimed in brief, drunken cheerfulness, and his eyes focused back on Emma. "He your boyfriend, sweetheart? He always speaks for you, huh?" he asked defiantly.

Killian acted without thinking; pushing him to a side, his hand moving to the man's neck forcefully — fulfilling the daydream that'd followed him around that entire evening, and pushing him down onto the table. The wooden table creaked under the forceful movement, and he heard a couple of glasses shattering as they'd fallen to the floor.

A string of loud curses left the man's mouth as his head was kept still against the table.

He also heard Emma's reproaching cry of his name, frustration and annoyance headed his way.

Ah, that was probably what she'd silently tried to say to him before — _don't you dare make a scene_.

Well, too late now.

A few eyes watched the scene curiously; those who sat in nearby tables, who'd been close enough to jump and turn at the strident sound. The bigger half of the tavern simply paid no mind to it, keeping to their own business — it wouldn't be the first time, after all, that the bar witnessed any drunken men settling a dispute with violence.

The other couple of men at the table jumped to their feet, squaring up and ready to defend themselves. They didn't seem too thrilled at the idea of fighting — too drunk probably to even stand properly, much less would they be able to fight a pirate. Many were well-aware of the fact that pirates were skilled at fighting, and wouldn't ever play fair; which made most prefer to keep away from fights like that.

Also, with all the rum they'd been drinking, it was clear upon their faces that they knew well they'd be knocked down to sleep in one simple blow.

"Easy, gentlemen — no one's here to fight," Killian charmingly said, a warning clear in his voice as he grinned coldly at them. His eyes fixed on them, awaiting for any movements — and when he didn't get any, he placed his attention back to the man under his hold, leaning his face down closer to his. "But the lady asked you a question moments ago, and I believe she's still waiting for a response."

The man groaned. "I've already told her—"

Bang. A loud blow and curses filled the place as Killian hit his head against the table; followed by an indignant exclamation from Emma:

"That's enough, Hook!"

She was staring at him with eyes wide in surprise, lips pursed together into a thin line, clearly disgusted. It was silly, but something within her gaze made him feel uneasy.

This was far from being the first time he got what he wanted through threats and violence, nor the first time in which he revelled in the power of inflicting pain, physical or mental, upon somebody else. It wasn't something to be proud of, but it was part of who he was — or that he wanted to believe. He was Captain Hook, with an earned reputation and a crew looking up to him; kindness and compassion weren't traits he was allowed to show that often; easily mistaken for signs of weakness — and weakness wasn't something that helped him earn his crew's respect, nor his enemies' fear. Strength did.

Emma, though, clearly didn't see it as strength. She didn't fear him, much less respected him — in fact, her eyes were filled with disappointment, like she expected _better_ of him.

Of course; bloody princess with her bloody moral standards.

It was the last thing he needed that night; to have the princess' eyes burying into his soul, judging him oh-so-deeply. She could lecture him another time, about how threats and fights were just not the way —for people like her, it wasn't—, after he'd gotten all the information he could out of the man.

Killian looked away from her gaze, opting to ignore her altogether; still, unwittingly his grip on the man softened slightly.

"How about we start all over—" Killian waved his hook around as he spoke. "What do you know about our friend? The truth this time, if you please."

He'd wondered if perhaps he would have to slam his face into the table once more for him to answer, yet, Ray began talking on his own:

"Fine, fine — I wasn't entirely honest. A few days later we crossed paths, in a small village up north. I… We just wanted to give her a good fright; as payback for misleading us — we wouldn't have ever really hurt her, truly!" he tripped over his own words, nervously. "She did more harm to us than we to her, after all. Her, and her friend—"

"Friend?" Emma interrupted him, crossing her arms over her chest as confusion filled her features. "What friend?"

"A warrior — a _girl_ warrior. I think they were traveling together," he responded. "They both put up quite a fight, and we decided it was just not worth it. That was the last time I saw her, I swear."

It'd been an unexpected piece of information. Apparently, he and Emma weren't the only team-up that'd occurred as of lately; seemingly Belle had too found herself some sort of partnership, if the man's words were to be believed. Who this woman could be, he had no clue — and judging from Emma's baffled look, she was just as clueless.

And a warrior, huh. For protection, perhaps?

Still, it was a detail he didn't think could matter much to their quest, so he decided not to waste much thought on it. He finally decided to let go of his grip on the man, taking a step back as Ray fell back into his chair, rubbing his neck with a scowl on his face.

"You fucking cunt…"

Killian ignored it, clenching his jaw to suppress the impulse of diving his fist into the man's nose.

"You said she was misleading you," Killian reminded him, brows furrowing together as he jumped into a conclusion. "You were all looking for something. What?"

"A beast's lair. People from the village had set a good amount of gold to anyone who dared hunt down the beast and kill it, so it'd stop terrorizing them," he explained through gritted teeth. "Your friend gave us wrong directions to find the beast, making us waste days of travel."

Things certainly seemed to get more interesting by the minute. Now, he had a beast thrown into the mixture — just because bloody Belle couldn't keep still for a minute and had now decided to play hero. She was sure decided to make his quest challenging, didn't she?

A quest, a missing princess, and a beast. How typical.

Looking down at the man, something told him this was all the information they were going to get from him, and honestly, he couldn't wait to finally get the hell of that place.

Killian glanced back at Emma, raising an eyebrow in a silent question she responded to with a nod. She believed he'd been saying the truth.

He nodded back at her. "Let's get the bloody hell out of here."

Disgust was clear on her face as he quickly took her hand with his own, not giving her any choice as he wasted no time in pulling her away from the scene and out of the tavern. He had no wish to remain there, share any more words with the men or feel another curious glance from anyone back there — not even have another drink; so he walked in long strides, forgetting for a moment Emma wasn't as tall as he was and her legs covered much less space than his did — making her be practically dragged out to the street by him.

Emma was the one to pull her hand away first as they were out of the tavern, rather forcefully as she took a couple of steps back.

"What was all that about?" He heard Emma's voice from behind him, loud and demanding. She kept her distance from him, body clearly tense as he turned around to watch her. Her brow furrowed deeply, and she added, "We'd agreed we wouldn't be causing any scenes."

He gave her a baffled look at her cold expression, the annoyance that laid beneath her voice. They'd gotten exactly what they'd been looking for — a lead that would help them find the missing princess; yet still, there she was looking at him like everything had just gone _wrong_. She was angry at him, for some reason he couldn't decipher.

He, on the other hand, had _plenty_ of reasons to be angry.

"We had, _yes_ — but that was before I had realized that when you'd said seduction, it meant seducing him all the way up into his bed in order for us to get something useful out of him."

Emma's eyes widened, clearly taken aback, and she clenched her jaw.

"You think I would've…?" she trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief.

"No — of course, I don't think that," he responded with exasperation, grunt leaving his lips as he hadn't meant for his words to come off like that. "I'm just pointing out that your plan wasn't the best."

"Yeah, because what you did back there was _oh-so-great_?" Emma snapped at him. "Slamming his head until he spilled the beans?"

"He did have it coming, after all," Killian stated, gaze hardening as he thought back at how the man looked at Emma, how he'd attempted to pull her closer —

His fist clenched.

"I could've handled him on my own," Emma exhaled soundly.

"I'd never doubt that," Killian shook his head, lips curving into a tight, bitter smile for a moment. It was true, he was fairly aware of how Emma was more than capable of looking out for herself. Perhaps she could've dealt with the drunken man on her own, with no need of his help — but he hadn't been willing to take the risk. He didn't feel like explaining, also, how he' d _barely_ been aware of his own actions back there — how the sinking feeling that'd been building up in his stomach all night long, the boiling of his blood had taken hold of him, dictating his every move. "But as you may have noticed, my way of handling things turned quite efficient."

"Well, haven't you stopped to think perhaps your way isn't exactly the right one?" she said firmly, arms over her chest maybe to defend herself from the cold night air — or maybe to defend herself from him.

Irritation swept through him at the words. He didn't need some sort of moral lesson from her. He didn't need her thinking he was better than that, that he could be better. He didn't need the reproaching tone of her voice, the disappointment in her gaze.

His soul had been darkened ages ago, and he'd doubted it had any repair — and she needed to know that. She needed to know there was no point in caring.

An ironic chuckle escaped his lips, and he took a step towards her.

"It is to me. You've got me all wrong, lassie — don't believe for one second this is some _heroic_ quest to find your friend. This has always been about me; me doing whatever I need to do in order to get my revenge," Killian declared darkly, eyes buried into hers as he slowly approached her. He saw her shoulders raise along with the deep breath she took; attempting to keep expression unfazed — yet he noticed something resembling hurt flash across her eyes. "I don't do heroic. That's you — who grew up surrounded by those type of stories, all that cheesiness so typical of fairytales."

He'd made his way towards her; stopping right in front of her, paying no attention to any concept of what _personal space_ might be. Still, Emma made no move to step back from his sudden proximity; instead she tilted her head up, lifting her chin in defiance and in an attempt to make herself taller.

"That's your world, love, not mine." He leaned his face even closer to hers as he continued to speak, lowly, "These aren't the safe walls of your castle, princess — you're down here, in my world, and there's nothing wrong here with getting your hands dirty to get what you want. Remember that, lass."

"Right," Emma smiled bitterly, hands dropping to her sides. "I guess I'd forgotten what kind of man you really are."

He felt an odd pang of hurt at her cold words, at the idea that he could never be the kind of man _right_ for her; yet he kept his posture firm, unfazed by it. He raised an eyebrow at her, forcing a cold smirk on his face. "I believe the word you're looking for is _pirate_ , love."

"Bloody imbecile sounds more like it," Emma corrected him sharply.

"And you, an insufferable woman," Killian spat right back at her, jaw clenched. She remained silent, like she had nothing else to say and instead glared at him intensely, a silent contest of who held the coldest stare — none of them apparently willing to be the one to back away first.

Their chests nearly brushed with every agitated heave of hers, and it didn't take him long to push past his current bad temper, and realize how close they'd really gotten to each other.

Curiously, he'd never noticed the many freckles that covered the skin of her nose — nearly unnoticeable, yet from up this close, he felt like he could stop and spend hours attempting to count every one of them.

He'd been the first to break the icy-stare contest, turning his face to a side and inhaling sharply; willing his pulse to slow. What the bloody hell did this woman do to him?

He returned his gaze to meet hers, baring his teeth to her in an ironic smile. "How about for once you push past that pride of yours, and recognize me intervening back there was just to keep you away from trouble? He was a drunken man, lass; one you'd flirted with and led on this entire evening, and I'm certain he wouldn't have hesitated to try and—"

He cut himself off as anger flashed across his features, the same time Emma's head lowered, a sudden chuckle leaving her lips. It made Killian just stare at her in utter disbelief, and when she looked back up at him, he found her gaze had softened just the slightest.

"If I didn't know you any better, captain, I'd say you were jealous."

Her words took him aback, and even though they weren't meant to be taken seriously, his first instinct was to deny — deny everything, at all costs. Still, he seemed to be betrayed by his own body language; as he darted his eyes away from her and his jaw clenched upon hearing the word.

Among the silence, the effect was immediate — Emma's eyes widened in realization, a disbelieving breath leaving her lips.

" _You are,_ " she accused him, and there was nothing he could do or say to stop the satisfied glint that filled her gaze. She even seemed like she was doing her best effort to fight away a small smile that threatened to ruin her serious demeanor.

"Don't be bloody ridiculous," Killian grumbled, scowl upon his face. He shook his head, quick to change the subject. "This whole discussion has been bloody ridiculous. I got us exactly what we came here for — so I'm sure some gratitude is in order, instead of all this bloody arguing," he said matter-of-factly, finishing his words with a quick raise of his eyebrows.

Emma watched him carefully for a few seconds; seconds in which Killian felt certain he wouldn't be getting any response from her altogether, until she finally let out a deep breath and opened her mouth.

"Thank you," she quietly said, and Killian was surprised by the earnestness that came with her words; making him, for the fraction of a second, have his lips twitched upwards in a brief, unsure smile.

They fell into silence for a moment, as they both seemed to be simultaneously realizing there wasn't any point in being mad anymore.

And still, both refused to break their gaze, neither making any moves to back away. He was certain he couldn't move even if he'd wanted to; he'd gotten too close and fallen into some sort of magnetic force, keeping him frozen there.

So, they just stood there, detailing each other's gaze as only the sounds of the late night surrounded them — the chirping of a couple of crickets, the dulled-out music from the bar.

Their own breathings.

And then he saw something else flash across her eyes, which moved briefly down to his lips — so quick that if he hadn't been glaring at her so intently, he would've missed it.

It was like she was suddenly realizing now how close their faces really were, and how easy it would be to close the couple inches of space between them.

It was something Killian hadn't failed to notice, too. How could he, when her scent intoxicated him, and her proximity drove him mad — and he wondered if her taste would have a similar effect on him.

And it would be easy — so easy, and every fiber of his body screamed _yes_ at the idea. Perhaps, in another life, he would've listened.

In another life, he would've grabbed her by the sides of her face and pressed his lips against hers, fervently. He would've pushed her back against the wall of the tavern, body pressed to hers as they explored each other's mouths; let all his frustration and confusion and want to be known through desperate kisses. They'd breathe each other's air, get lost within one another.

But this life, however, was far more complicated than that. So, he held back, deciding to be the one to finally step away, breaking the spell.

He tried to ignore the confused, disappointed glint in her eyes, and cleared his throat:

"I'll see you tomorrow, princess. Good night."

* * *

"Okay, hear this out: _'Chimeras are monstrous fire-breathing hybrid creatures, with the appearance of a lion, and a goat's head arising from its back,'_ " Emma read out loud for him, and then raised her head from the book with a lifted eyebrow, silently asking his opinion.

Killian stood in front of the map that hung on the wall, having twisted around to watch her as she'd begun to read. She stared at him as he shook his head nearly immediately.

"We're looking for a _fire-maned_ lion," he reminded her, before turning his back on her again, eyes focused on the paper in front of him. "I'm sure a bloody goat coming out of its back would be a detail no one would forget to mention."

Emma sighed deeply, elbows leaning on top of the pirate's desk, and her head resting on her left palm, as she went through the pages of the book with the other. "Fine, chimeras are crossed out then," she mumbled, more to herself; and this time, it didn't bother her that yet again she was nowhere near to finding some useful information. It was actually a relief of sorts — as she guessed any creature Belle had actually gone after could never be much worse than a _fire-breathing goat-lion_.

She reassumed her reading; which, she was quickly starting to get tired of. The book was about five hundred pages, thick and heavy — an old bestiary, that had been covered in dust within her library and she'd carried with herself in hopes they could give it a good use having their current situation in mind.

She refused to believe that among the hundreds of pages there wouldn't be anything on the creature haunting the nearby village — whatever it actually was.

Which, at least, Killian had managed to get some interesting information on his hands while she'd been home. As soon as she'd set foot into his cabin, plopping the book into the table loudly, he had rested his hips on the table next to her as he told her about some rumor that had been quite the sensation among commoners, about some village outskirts of her kingdom, terrorized by a lion-like monster from the woods.

Emma had responded with a silent nod, getting comfortable in the chair for what seemed would be a long afternoon, and opened the book.

Killian, instead, had moved to the wall, occupying himself with the ubication of the village. She had heard him mumbling a couple of times, making her lift her head from her task only to quickly realize they were only thoughts he'd spoken out loud to himself. Besides that, no words were really exchanged in the hours that passed.

She could attempt to blame it on the fact that both of them were pretty centered on their own tasks to be engaging in any type of casual talk, yet she knew well that wasn't the case.

She had no idea of what to say to him, not after what happened the previous night. It wasn't the fight that bothered her, that was clear. He'd been an annoyingly frustrating, hot-headed, bad-mannered pirate, yes; but it'd been a petty argument she'd been willing to see past.

No, it had nothing to do with that — but more with what had happened after, when the night had fallen awfully quiet, and so had they.

She'd seen it in his eyes, behind his sudden anger, was the insecurity and jealousy her act at the pub had caused. He cared, more than she'd ever expected him to — and along with that realization, came the fact that they stood too close, and the knowledge that she wanted him even closer.

Her heart had threatened to burst out of her chest, and she allowed herself to wonder about things she'd never thought of before. Of how the skin of his cheek and his stubble would feel like under her hands, or what the taste of his lips would be like.

It'd been a brief moment that'd led her to the realization that her feelings towards the pirate ran a whole lot deeper than she'd ever imagined, than she'd ever meant them to.

And then there was the realization that every time she tried to listen to her instincts and go along with what she felt, she was always a step behind. Killian had pulled away before she could act on her feelings, making it all over before it even started, eyes vacant of the usual warmth that was only meant for her.

Perhaps it just was meant to be a sign that she couldn't trust him wholeheartedly; that there was always bound to be a distance keeping the two of them apart, even though magnetic forces appeared to pull them together whenever they got close enough.

 _That_ was what bothered her. So, she stuck with what she was supposed to do; because maybe that way all the complications and realizations could be kept away from her mind.

And though she couldn't read him as well as he did her, Emma guessed he'd been having a similar trail of thought; she couldn't fathom what his real reasons for his silence and distance were, but all since they'd gotten to work, he seemed just as unwilling as she was to attempt to acknowledge the other's presence.

He didn't want to speak, and she didn't either. Good. She was okay with that.

Yet, for some reason, the lingering tense feeling, the distance between the two of them seemed to put her in quite an ill humor.

"Are you certain that's all we know?" Emma lifted her gaze from the book once more, asking with slight exasperation. "Any details a bit more… _specific_?"

"Aye, princess, I'm certain," Killian answered monotonously, hand scratching the stubble under his chin as he kept his sight on the map. "Giant. Fiery. Terrifying. Adjectives that, if you ask me, I wouldn't ever be too thrilled to use together. Certainly, they don't offer any good augury for our quest."

She agreed — the situation that seemed to be placed ahead of them could certainly be troubling; they had enough problems with their hunt for the missing princess, and adding a possible encounter with a fierce beast to it wasn't thrilling news for either of them.

In what kind of trouble had Belle gotten to, and what could possibly have her believing _that_ was the next best thing to do with her newfound freedom?

Perhaps the isolation had truly done some irreparable damage to her mind.

Even though she'd been reading since the moment she'd arrived at his ship, a couple hours give or take, Emma still hadn't managed to reach past even a quarter of the book. Griffins, manticores, sphinxes… The list of creatures she'd read about so far went on, yet none of them got close enough to what they seemed to be after — whatever that may be.

"I need a break," Emma announced with a deep sigh, frustration sweeping through her after she'd quickly passed the last couple of pages, unable to concentrate on the words. She closed the book loudly, leaning back into the chair as she watched Killian turn his neck slightly to raise his eyebrows at her. "This is _pointless_ , and I'll surely go mad if I read one more word."

"Stay calm, love; I'm sure we'll find something eventually."

"I hope you're right," Emma sighed deeply, and then showed a half smile, more to herself. "Ironic how useful she could be right now. Give Belle a book and an hour, and she was sure bound to find something useful."

"If she were here, lass, we wouldn't have to investigate _anything_ in the first place," Killian responded with a snort.

Emma rolled her eyes, and snapped, "Yeah, that's why I called it an irony."

Killian didn't respond, and Emma pondered on the idea of leaving the cabin to stretch out her legs after long hours of sitting down. She hoped some fresh air would help clear her mind and set her right back into her task; also, she'd receive with open arms anything that took her away from the silence, and the mixed-up emotions she found herself dealing with any time she glanced at the pirate.

She pushed the chair back from the table, and she'd been slowly rising to her feet when she heard him speak:

"Why do you think she did it?"

"Hm?" Emma looked at him with curiosity upon hearing his voice.

"Go after the beast, I mean," he clarified and gave her a slight shrug. "I find it a peculiar thing for her to do. It's rather obvious it isn't about the gold."

Emma smiled slightly to herself. Of course, it wouldn't be about the gold, that was clear as day. Belle wasn't that type of person, to have her mind troubled over matters such as wealth — not like she even had to, considering the type of life she'd always had back in her kingdom. Gold wasn't something the princess ever lacked, or longed after.

She didn't even have to think about the answer to his question, as it came to her near immediately — almost like Belle herself whispered it down onto her ear, in the same way she had back in the times their younger selves had shared together.

 _Wouldn't it be wonderful to do something that actually mattered? A grand adventure_ — _like the ones in the storybooks._

"You're right, it's not gold she's after," Emma shook lightly her head, leaning her hips against the edge of the wooden desk. "Knowing her, she's just trying to do something good, just for the sake of it. That's what she wanted — to do something to be remembered for, leave her mark."

"Most would say that's just being stupid."

The words took her aback, and Emma stared at him with an annoyed scowl. "Well, I say that's just being brave."

"I didn't say otherwise, love, but bear in mind, both can be the same," Killian stated. He seemed to be pondering on something for a couple moments, and then chuckled lightly. "I guess I've been mistaken about you noble-girls all along. You're fiercer than I'd ever imagined."

His words were something she wasn't expecting, and Emma lowered her head, attempting to hide the slightly surprised laugh that fell from her lips. "Are you trying to compliment me, Hook?"

She'd expected some cheeky response; the teasing flirtatious tone she'd grown accustomed to, or some sarcastic words. Still, the response, while lighthearted, it bore no glimpse of sarcasm or tease to it. He meant it as a compliment — or even, she guessed, as a peace-offering after the tense moments.

"I am, actually."

The slightest of smiles peeked upon her lips, as she was unsure of what to respond. Whatever had been bothering him, he seemed to be ready to see past it — and while Emma still wasn't sure on how to act upon her newfound feelings, she was used to lighthearted, warm conversations between them, and it felt like a relief to allow herself to be that with him again.

"Well, you know; I was wrong about pirates, too," Emma began, that being her own response to their silent agreement to act normal again. She slowly made her way to him, making sure she nudged his shoulder playfully as she stopped by his side. "You're not as awful as I thought. Even, you might make some good company — _sometimes_."

Killian's eyebrows were raised at her, his posture relaxing as he now had Emma standing by his side, and she was very thankful for the shift in the mood around the cabin; especially when he flashed her his trademark cocky smirk, and she had to suppress the happy smile that threatened to give her away on how much effect the pirate captain really had on her.

"Believe me, lass," he spoke lowly, and took a small step further closer to her — and it should be illegal for his voice to sound the way it did, and much less look the way he did. Especially now that she was very aware of the feelings he incited on her, and she still felt very uncertain of how to deal with it. He continued, in nearly a purr, "I haven't even begun to show you how much of a good company I can truly be."

And certainly, it had to be illegal to say things like that — and she had to fight the urge to blush and look away.

Instead, Emma kept her eyes locked on his, dramatically rolling them and groaning out loud. "Oh, believe _me_ , I don't want to know."

Maybe it was that she was such an awful liar, but Killian's only response to her words was to beam a wide smile at her, one she couldn't dare not slightly imitate.

She swore if she didn't focus on anything that wasn't Killian's bright, handsome smile she might go mad right then and there.

"We're getting closer," she stated, staring at the map in front of them. Killian had circled the area where the village would be, not too far from the outskirts of her kingdom.

"Aye." Killian nodded. "I estimate it'll take us less than half a day ride there. It won't be a long trip, thankfully."

"Us?" Emma repeated, his words making her turn her neck quickly to stare at him, in disbelief. The possibility of her coming along had never even occurred to her — right there where she stood, after all, was easily the farthest outside her castle she'd ever reached by herself. And despite her wishing it wasn't like that, she did feel like she was somehow bound to her kingdom — making the idea of actually leaving it feel somewhat strange to her.

And it was truly the most terrifying, yet exciting idea she'd ever faced.

Killian laughed at her rather obvious surprise, like it was outright stupid to even consider _not_ bringing her along.

"Come on, love, I've told you already we make a good team," he said and wiggled his eyebrows at her. And then, to add to the baffled and surely idiotic look upon her features, he reached his hand to her face, taking a loose strand of blonde hair and tucking it behind her ear. "Besides, hadn't you said you wanted to see the world? Well, this might as well be the first step — and, lass, I do intend to take you on this adventure with me."

Killian offered her a wholehearted grin, earnest enough to make her feel frozen right where she stood, as her heart seemed suddenly filled with warmth, and it picked up its pace just the slightest. She didn't hold back the wide smile that showed on her face, letting him be aware of how happy the words really made her.

He wanted her to go with him, by his side — and that, along with the way he was smiling down at her, brought to her a sudden, terrible impulse of grabbing him by his collar and smacking his lips down to hers.

Emma shifted her gaze to a side and cleared her throat, as suddenly holding his gaze was just too much.

"I guess I need to remind you, Hook, my birthday ball is only a couple days away — and if one thing I'm sure of, is that my parents –the king and queen– will have my head if I dare miss it." She smirked slightly, and added, "And surely, they'll have yours as well, for dragging me into this."

"Oh, I'm sure that would be a rather unfortunate first impression to the king and queen," Killian chuckled, and then smirked smugly at her. "Then we shall wait after the ball, princess."

* * *

 **A/N: Aha, a really long chapter - with one of my favorite moments I have written so far. Next week's chapter will be even _longer_ , and I really can't wait for you guys to read it! ;)**

 **Just to clear some things out, in case you haven't caught on to where this whole Belle-situation is going to: I'm following Belle's plotline from S1 and S2 of OUAT Canon. So, pretty much she's a prisoner to the Dark One, falls in love and then leaves after a failed TLK. The men in the tavern, and the beast they refer to all come from her Yao Guai plotline I believe happened in some of the earlier chapters in S2.**


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